sanguine
by chaosbarnes
Summary: Chara is the unfortunate heir to a troublesome kingdom and runs away into the world of banished monsters to avoid their fate.
1. Chapter 1

**i was drawing chara in a dress during history and i was like ":000 au time!"**

 **so here we are**

 **why do i do these things**

 **(warnings for: transphobia, misgendering, mental health issues, violence, etc)**

* * *

 _ **san·guine**_

 _adjective_

 **1**. optimistic or positive, especially in an apparently bad or difficult situation.

 **2**. blood-red.

* * *

 _Many years ago, in the days of old, monsters thrived alongside humans._

 _The magic they possessed was used prosperously. Some did entertainment, some did healing, and some used their magic just to use it._

 _But then the queen of the days of old was assassinated by a monster hired to do someone else's dirty work, and thus, the connection between humans and monsters began to deteriorate._

 _The queen's son took over as ruler. In his grief, he exiled all monsters out of his kingdom and into the forest, never to return. Those who opposed, uncaring if human or monster, were executed._

 _In order to keep the monsters away forever, the king hired seven magicians to seal a barrier that would allow anyone to get in, but no one to get out._

 _As the barrier was sealed, the king pushed all seven inside. He blamed them for indirectly causing the death of his mother, fooling himself into believing that, since they had been trained in the method of magic by monsters, the seven magicians gave monsters the knowledge they needed to murder the queen._

 _Almost all traces of monsters were eradicated from the kingdom. Anyone who dared to bring it up was arrested and never seen again._

 _This tradition continues, even to the current ruler of our once-prosperous, dull kingdom today._

 _- The History of Humans and Monsters, by Anonymous_

* * *

They are not a princess.

Being the only child of a powerful king had its perks and whatnot. You got whatever you wanted handed to you on a silver platter. If you asked for it, it would come to you. There were no limits—you were the ultimate.

Except being the only child of a powerful king meant you must take the reigns some day, and given a harsh reminder that you are, in fact, the king's property and protege.

Sometimes they look at their mother, glance up at the jeweled collar around her neck. To anyone outside, it would just be a normal accessory for a queen to have. But the collar marks something that runs farther deep—it signifies the control the king has over the kingdom. It silently tells the world that the queen is his; his property, his _possession_.

And they are too, but they don't need fancy collars to show that.

The servants and maids that are at their side at all times, they don't understand, and yet they see more than any other peasant ever would. They see the secrets of the castle. If they wanted to, they could spill the secrets. Spill the secrets of how ruthless and gruesome the king really was, despite the friendly and happy front he put up around the public.

But they won't. They're too scared.

Nobody understands anything. Hell, _they_ don't understand it.

But they're _not_ a princess. Even if that's what everyone calls them. Even if that's what they're known as. Even if that's what the reflection in the mirror taunts them to be. Even if their father pats their little head and tells them that they will someday be, not a princess, but a _queen_.

A queen expected to be as ruthless and as gruesome as him.

"Princess Chara".

"Queen Chara".

The term sickens them.

* * *

They wake in their room as they have done so many times before, except this time it feels different. The memories of their dreams are twisted, but slowly fading away. They can only make out an image of panicked red eyes before they're snapped back into reality by a maid setting down a, quite literally, silver platter of plate onto their lap.

"Princess Chara," the maid greets, and the words make their stomach flip, "good morning." The maid doesn't know; how could she?—and yet they feel a strange sense of anger and frustration as they glare at the maid with their terrifying red eyes (the queen of the olden days had red eyes, their father always told them, so it made them special).

They only give a huff as an acknowledgement, turning their head away as the maid quickly pours the hot tea into the exquisite cup. Once she's finished, she waves the steam with her hand and then picks it up. They decide they can fend for themself, and snatch it away from her hands. The maid doesn't even look surprised—just mildly annoyed. Like they don't hear the rumors the castle staff whisper at night; _Princess Chara is such a brat. Princess Chara doesn't know how to be grateful. (_ She _) They don't know how to thank anyone for anything._

But need they remind them that they are a ( _princess)_ child of the king, while they are just lowlifes. Peasants. _Cowards_ who succumb to every threat thrown at them.

They glare down at the swirling cup of tea, and down it all in one go. They hope the action makes them sick.

* * *

Their mother comes into their room hours after they have finished their breakfast. They still lay in their bed, silver platter on the far end of the room after having been punched and kicked and then, finally, tossed. Their hair is messy, their skin is too pale, and they still adorn their silk, white pajamas. Not a good state for the queen to see her child in, especially when she claims that there's an important announcement to be made.

Their mother rushes them, and even as she lays out specific dresses and ponders over which one would suit them more, their eyes are fixed on the jeweled collar. The bright blue jewel shines a mysterious light, twinkling and sparkling as their mother moves quickly.

They're forced into a tight white-and-gold gown complete with a laced bodice, the edges of the sleeves concealing most of their hands. As their mother tightened the the dress from behind (quite uncomfortably; they could hardly breathe), they studied their reflection in the mirror.

Their hair had been brushed and styled, complete with a white flower pin that tucked above their left ear; they had been left with, surprisingly, no makeup whatsoever (save for the light touches of foundation their mother added). The theme of their outfit seemed to be white, and white was the color of innocence and purity.

Something was up.

Their mother finishes lacing the last part, and they turn to face her with a suspicious look. She huffs at them, her dark brown eyes rolling in amusement. "Don't make that face at me, young lady," she says, and shooting an arrow through their chest would have been less painful. "Now, come on, dear, your father is waiting."

Their mother motions for them to follow. They're tempted to ask what's happening, but they know better.

* * *

They should have expected it.

A man waits in front of their father, dressed in expensive clothing and adorning a false facade of kindness. He's older than them—probably by a lot. He's a lot taller too, and he has to kneel down just to take their hand and kiss it. His lips are cold and dry; it makes the spec of skin where his lips had been tingle uncomfortably. Their stomach flips.

"Hello, your highness," he says, and his voice is as disgusting as the kiss he just dared to lay upon them. "My name is Lord—" They've tuned him out by that point, uninterested in learning any further. Instead they listen off and on as he explains why he's here, and after glancing over at their parents for clarification, their excited (mother) and stern (father) faces tell them to listen closely. So they listen in, barely catching the last few words. "—and I've already been granted permission from your parents."

They blink, confused, and promptly ask what he means in a grave voice. They hope it frightens him enough to leave.

Instead, he just smiles. It's disgusting, like the rest of him. "Your hand in marriage, of course! You will be Queen and I, King," he says, and their entire world stills. He's saying more, but they've tuned him out again.

Eyes wide, they look over at their mother. She's smiling, trying to look happy, but they can see it under her eyes. She's frightened. It's like her own life flashing before her eyes. Their mother was part of an arranged marriage too; they guessed she didn't like it too much.

And now she was being forced to see her child be whisked away in one.

"He will make a fine husband," their father says, and they barely have enough time to wipe the angry glare from their face in time when he steps in front of them. "He will take care of you, and you will birth many sons."

Sons. Boys. It's all about _men_. Daughters and girls and women were barely noticed. Let alone those who were neither. In the kingdom's eyes—in the world's eyes—a queen was useless without a king.

(But it should be known that the queen of old ruled for many years without ever marrying.)

They open their mouth, hesitate, and then close it. Their father nods approvingly at them, and when he turns his back to them to speak to the Lord, they glower at his back with a glare strong enough to set fire to the wettest field. If their mother noticed, she didn't say a thing. Perhaps she could relate.

Their father and the Lord are speaking, but they walk away and turn towards their mother. She's smiling down at them, eyes glossy with fresh tears. She then kneels down, and reaches behind her to unclasp the jeweled collar around her neck. They can hear the relieved sigh escape her, as if the single action brought her more pleasure than any kind of riches or wealth she could ask for. Their mother holds it out in front of them, her hands shaking, the jewel glimmering in the sunlight pouring from the colored windows. Sighing, adhering to her wishes, they turn and pull their long hair out of the way. Their mother scoots closer, and her hands are warm as she places the collar around their neck.

The collar burns.

"And you will pass this on to your own child," their mother says, and takes their hands when they turn to her. "Do not let it become a sign of ownership." Her voice is stern, but not as scary as their father's. They nod, and their mother regains her pleased smile.

They reach up and touch the collar. The Lord walks up, and he towers over them. He's probably older than 20, while they themself are merely 14. He reaches down, brushing his gloved fingers against the jewel. Somehow, they think, he taints it.

"It's beautiful," he says, and they resist the urge to tell him they already know that. "This was your mother's, right? I heard the king gave it to her on their wedding night."

They don't reply. They just stare, narrowing their eyes slightly and hoping the demonic red color makes him back away. But, it doesn't work, and his boring blue eyes bore into theirs. If anything, he leans in closer, his bad breath fanning across their face and making goosebumps rise to their skin. Their heart races, and all of their nerves are on edge as he is far, far, far too close. They begin to panic, blood pulsing in their mind and vision filling with only the Lord. They're tempted to grab the collar and jab him in the neck with the corner of the jewel when they think—no, no, that's not what a _ruler_ does. That's not _normal_.

That kind of behavior is not befitting of a princess, soon-to-be queen.

They realize the Lord has simply kissed their cheek when he pulls away, a lingering wetness on their cheek. They wipe it off quickly, grimacing, feeling their stomach churn with the urge to vomit. He doesn't notice, and bows as he walks away with their father and mother. Most likely discussing wedding plans, or maybe even baby plans.

Their entire life has been planned ahead. Maybe they were set to marry the Lord before they were even born. He would be at least six years old when they were born; perhaps his parents arranged this accordingly as their mother developed them in her pregnant stomach. Perhaps the sole reason of their birth was to marry this Lord.

The thought sickens them.

Without a word, they storm up to their room.

* * *

They tear off the dress as soon as they get up there. They feel the Lord's touch everywhere. He's disgusting. He's vile. But not as vile as them, no, they're much, _much_ worse. They're _broken_. A broken princess and soon-to-be queen— _No, no, that's not me_ , their mind says but they try to shut it out.

They tear at their hair, nails digging into their scalp and scratching like they deserve it and they do.

After what seems like hours of pain they stop, and they flop on their bed. They rip away the sleeves of their white dress, pull it off their body and toss it away like its garbage (it is), and cover their nearly-naked body with their silken bedsheets. Their bed is cold, and they smooth their hands all along the fabric. It feels nice against their skin, and for a moment, in the safety in their bedroom, they feel at peace. Their mind isn't racing with terrifying thoughts and drunken words like always. Their skin doesn't feel clammy and disgusting and wrong. Their body doesn't feel out of place, their body doesn't feel like it's not made normally.

They feel fine.

But then that moment ends, and everything bad about themself comes crashing down.

They pull the sheets over their head and force themself to go to sleep.

* * *

Their dreams are filled with mysterious images. A child with dual-colored eyes, dark skin, frantically telling them to run. A white, furry being with horns giving them the warmest hug they've ever felt. A tinier version of the furry monster with its face nearly completely concealed with yellow flowers.

The last thing they see is a mirror. They're standing in front of it, gazing at their reflection. Their reflection looks different than them, with shorter hair and brighter eyes. Then the reflection opens its mouth and begins to speak, but other than words comes black tar spilling from its gums and over its teeth and tongue, and pouring out of its eyes like soup. It's horrifying, it's disgusting, but they don't react. They only watch.

Then they awaken drenched in sweat, and the moon is shining high in the sky.

They think of the child that screamed at them to run. They think of the monsters hugging and staring. They think of the monster in the mirror more terrifying than themself.

They look up at the moon. The moon is telling them to run, too.

So they do.

* * *

The knife is heavy in their hands. It's supposed to be for self-defense, since the child of a king could be targeted by rivals at any moment.

They twirl it around in their fingers, running their fingertip along the blade and licking the blood that rushes to the cut left behind. Taking a handful of their hair from behind, they decide to copy the mirror image's style and forcefully run the blade through the locks of hair. It takes a few moments for it to go all the way through, and they know they haven't cut it all, but it's just enough to make it short and bounce around their chin.

They lean in, staring at themself in the mirror curiously. The fallen hair pools at their feet.

The front strands of their hair are mismatched, one hanging over their eyes and the other behind their ear. The back of their hair is cut in odd ways—most of it bunching in fluffy waves around their chin and neck, and some trailing over their arms and shoulder bones. They slice the strands that are too long, and leave half of their bangs long, and suppose it is ridiculous enough to prevent being noticed immediately. In a way, they decide, it suits them.

Their eyes are glowing as they dig through their closet and drawers. Almost all of the clothes are dresses and pajamas made of silk and golden trims. It's far too bright, and then they find a black dress far in the back saved only for funerals. They've never worn it, so they decide to take the knife and cut only the parts they need. They remove the built-in corset, the sleeves, and take hold of the middle. They slip it on over what they're wearing. It's almost like one of the raggedy tank tops the slaves wear—except this one is nearly flawlessly woven. The only pants they own are pajama pants, so they grab the dullest color they could find—a brown that looks almost metallic as it shines—and slip it on.

They turn to the mirror. They look positively ridiculous. If one of their parents were to walk in, they would be punished for sure.

They grin at the thought.

* * *

It's cold outside. The moon is bright; too bright.

Nobody notices them as they slip into the garden. They consider themself lucky. But then they see a familiar figure standing by the roses, and duck into the bushes just as they turn. The moonlight illuminates his face; it's the Lord. He narrows his eyes and scans the horizon, but he doesn't see them. He turns back to the roses, plucking one out despite the thorns making his fingers bleed. He slips the rose into his bag and walks away.

They don't waste their time to escape.

* * *

They fucked up.

Guards chase them, about two of them. They're on horses, shouting and drawing near. They storm past the streets of the town until they've exited it—they've only been here a few times before, when the royal family must witness a beheading or a parade. They don't remember it at all.

Frightened people watch. Maybe some recognized them. They doubt it. They're moving too fast.

Just past the village is the barrier. Past the barrier is forbidden territory unknown to even the wisest and oldest of men. They wonder if they will be free and safe there. They wonder if it will be all for nothing, and the monsters beyond will consume them quicker than royalty ever could.

They take their chances, and dash through it.

* * *

When they open their eyes, they're on the ground.

A furry white face smiles down at them.

"Are you okay?" the creature asks. It extends a hand.

They eye it warily.

The creature shakes its head. "It's alright," it says kindly, and its voice is soothing. "My name is Asriel. What's yours?"

They don't answer.

* * *

 **descriptions r probably lame and weak but i threw this together idiotically idk if im even gonna continue it**

 **if im not then i hope u enjoyed**

 **(please understand that chara is NOT a princess, nor a girl in this fic. i'm sure that was made very clear.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**why do i love 2 suffer and write 3893983 things at once**

* * *

 _The queen of old ruled over a prosperous kingdom._

 _There are little records from her reign, but the most known tale is that she ruled, she lived, and she died._

 _But it was so much more._

 _Some stories depict the queen as a bringer of justice. Some depict the queen as kind. Some depict her as brave._

 _Almost no one knows the true tale._

 _\- The History of Humans and Monsters, by Anonymous_

* * *

They decide they don't trust Asriel. And yet they follow him anyway.

He says he's going to take them to his friends, his family, so that he can help them. He didn't say a word when they refused to tell him their name, or when they refused to speak a word at all. He just gave a soft smile, and asked them to follow him.

So they did. It wasn't like there was anything else they could do.

They're past the barrier now, the barrier that encloses the forest outside the kingdom and even beyond. The barrier that traps the monsters in and prevents them from escaping.

They always thought it was just tall tales. But seeing the way Asriel's arms swung by his sides as he walked, the reality hits them in the face like a slap.

They turn to look behind them, at the dark expanse of trees with seemingly no end. They can see no sign of the kingdom, or guards, or anything, They're finally free.

They want to cry, want to shout, want to hurt something, but they can't. Not in front of the monster.

* * *

There's a small village that Asriel takes them to. There's only around 6 houses, with a well in the center of them all.

"This isn't our stop," Asriel informs as he takes a few steps towards the well, "but I figured that you were thirsty." He leans forward over the well, dropping the bucket down and waiting until he hears the splash. He then starts pulling, motioning them to come closer.

They walk forward, their eyes narrowed. They're wary, and in the back of their mind they wish they had taken the knife with them. Maybe Asriel just wants to push them in—as revenge, maybe. For what humans did to the monsters. For every single monster that had been killed in the relocation. Maybe Asriel has a knife or blade hidden somewhere, and all they need to do is move a little more until he'll stab them in the neck or chest or stomach.

And they kind of wish he would.

But he doesn't do any of those things. Instead, he pulls the bucket up and holds it out to them. "It might be kind of hard to drink, but it's better than nothing," he says, and smile when they slowly take it in their hands.

The bucket is heavy, and the water sloshes in their shaky grip. It spills over the edge, on their hands, and it makes them sick. Don't they have cups or something?

They take a drink nonetheless, and it's like drugs. It's like magic. The water slides over their dry and scratchy throat, soothing it instantly. Once they're finished, they're desperate for more, and they give Asriel a wide-eyed look. Had the water been poison this entire time?

Asriel looks frightened. "Oh, it's okay!" he assures, as if reading their expression. "The, um, water has healing magic in it! My mom put it in to help the sick monsters when she couldn't actually be there!"

Magic. That's right. Monsters had—no—have magic. That's what humans were afraid of. That and... something else. They couldn't quite remember it. The history of monsters has been scrubbed away from the kingdom quite thoroughly. All that remains now are books, and old men telling tall tales to the people in the village.

(They listened to one when they were young, once. The man's voice had been deep and mysterious, and their caretaker had claimed that he was crazy. But his words were intriguing, so they listened. He told them that monsters were kind, and the humans were the true monsters. He told them that humans would pay for their sins someday. He told them about a prophecy—an angel—that would come and deliver what's right. The tingling feeling that remained in their fingers after his tales was there for days.)

They look up at Asriel, and raise their eyebrows.

"Do humans not have magic?" Asriel asks, looking puzzled.

They shrug in response, and then shake their head. While magic was still known to have existed, no one in the kingdom uses it. It's against the law, too.

"...Huh." His tone is odd. It makes them uncomfortable.

They throw the bucket back into the well, ignoring Asriel's frightened stare at the sudden action, and then look all around the village. Each house is quaint and small, made of nothing but old wood and straw—maybe even magic. Some are decorated with flowers, while one doesn't have anything on it at all.

It's strange. A whole world outside of theirs. A whole world of magic and monsters, void of disgusting humans and overly-pampered rulers (funny, while they, themself, are one). They look up at the sky. Somehow, it's different than the sky from home. It's brighter. Realer. Clearer. The birds are singing above them, the sun is radiating on their pale skin, the grass is wet and bright under their feet.

When they look at Asriel, he's beaming. They jolt backwards in surprise.

"C'mon," he said, extending a hand, "we're almost there." He points ahead, but they see nothing but trees. They stare at his hand, confused, but when he puts it down with a vaguely disappointed look, they realize that he expected them to take it.

Except he didn't know that they hated touching and being touched. They ignore his expression, nodding their head once and waiting until he started walking. They walk behind him, practically glaring holes into the back of his head.

Asriel's hands and face twitch every so often, and they know that he can feel their stare. They wonder if he is regretting taking them along.

* * *

The house Asriel takes them to is large, but not as large as their castle. Yellow flowers encase the edges of the house, some tainted by dew. Moss covers the sides of the house, the bricks old and some falling apart. It's strangely beautiful, fitting even, and they find themself staring at it for longer than necessary.

Asriel tugs on their shirt, and they jerk away from his touch. He looks apologetic, opening his mouth to say something, but then the door to the house opens. They take a few steps back, ready to run, the muscles in their legs twitching. But what steps out is a creature identical to Asriel—larger, friendlier, softer. It looks between them and Asriel for a few moments, and then its red eyes turn brighter.

"Asriel," the creature says, and its voice is light, "who is this child?"

Asriel opens his mouth, turning towards them and pursing his lips. They don't want to say their name, so they take another step back and give Asriel a hard look. The creature seems to understand, and merely nods its head.

"Alright, then why have you brought them here?"

They pause. It didn't call them a girl. Or a boy.

"Mom," Asriel says, and they realize that this must be the creature who inflicted the water with her healing magic, "I found them unconscious on the edge of the barrier. They must've come from outside!" He exclaims it, like he's excited. It makes them feel weird. Not a good weird. They want to vomit.

The creature gives them a look, one they can't decipher. It sends shivers up their spine. "Come in, child," she says, and they swallow. "It is alright. You must be hungry, right? I can make a pie for you, if you wish."

The offer sounds absolutely delicious. They put a hand on their stomach, feeling the nearly-silent rumble underneath their clothes.

The creature eyes them up and down. "I can also provide you some fresh clothes, and perhaps a bath."

The dirt caked underneath their fingernails and staining their hair makes them sick. They're not used to this. They're not used to the outside. It feels weird without their billowy, luxurious clothes, and their perfectly-styled hair. It makes them sick, but also relieves them. Maybe now they have a chance to fully live.

So, they nod, albeit hesitantly. The creature smiles, content, and motions for the both of them to come inside. Asriel walks in first, calling out someone's name they don't recognize. They stare at the creature, fumbling with their fingers. Their legs are shaky as they walk forward—why are they so scared?

"My name is Toriel," the creature says once they walk up to her. She's tall, compared to them. Her hand rests on their shoulder, and the action makes them shiver in disgust. But then it feels warm, comforting even, and they blink up at her. "You do not have to tell me yours if you do not wish to," Toriel continues, and the shock of relief washes over them like a waterfall.

They nod again, scratching at their arms. There's cuts on their skin; they sting as their fingers brush over them.

Toriel leads them in, and the overwhelming scent of cinnamon hits them as soon as they step inside. And while it smells delicious, the fact that they're allergic to cinnamon downsizes the aroma. There's a small kitchen with a very clean stove, with a dining table that has four chairs. They wondered who else lives in the large home—there must be more if there are four chairs set up, right?

"I shall show you how to use the bath, and lay out some clothes for you," Toriel says, letting them follow her into another room. "While you are bathing, I will whip up a pie for you. Sound good?"

They nod, and Toriel leads them into a bathroom. It's clean, white, and bright, and makes their eyes hurt. It's not as luxurious as their personal bathroom back at home—it's not gold and decorated with statues and paintings, and there's no bubble bath mix.

"It works with magic," Toriel says, turning on the water. "It keeps the water clean even as you bathe. The water, like all water here, has healing quantities in it, so any injuries you have should be healed up faster."

They look down at their cuts. Toriel pats them on the head, and they're suddenly aware of how soft and gentle her touch is, and the tangles in their messy hair. Toriel leaves, claiming to leave clothes by the door for them to change into once they're done, and they turn towards the bath. It's white, and slowly filling with water that sparkles like diamonds. Sticking their finger in it, the sudden feeling that overtakes them is one they never felt before. They wonder how it will feel once they're completely submerged in.

They remove their clothes, tempted to tear them apart into pieces, and then step inside the water. It's warm, but not hot, and it immediately soothes their skin. They sit down, exhaling slowly. Their skin is pale and dirtied, so they take the soap nearby and scrub it clean. It comes off almost instantly, and they sigh.

They lean their head back, staring at the ceiling with bored eyes. They try to distract themself, mind filling with images of the kingdom, the forest, the guards that had been chasing them. Their cheek still stings uncomfortably from the Lord's kiss. They want to tear their skin off, but instead they continuously scrub at it with the soap. The soap isn't as nice as the kind back at home.

Home. They wonder how the kingdom is doing, if they realized their precious heir is missing. They wonder what their parents are doing; if they've sent out every search party available; if they've completely disregarded their disappearance.

They're not sure which option they'd prefer.

The water starts to get cold, and they look down. A mistake. They stare at their body for what seems like forever, at the trash between their legs and their disgusting legs and their ugly arms and useless body. It's gross. It's awful. It makes them sick, they're going to throw up.

Jumping out of the bath, they drain the water and rip a nearby towel off the hook. They drape themself in it, wrapping it around their entire body and curling into a ball on the floor. They're shaking and making a mess, there's water everywhere, but they don't care. Even if it's not their house, it'll just make the process of them getting kicked out quicker. The monsters are going to hate them, they know it. They can feel it.

But nothing happens, and their blurry vision eventually goes away. So they stand, and look at themself in the mirror.

Now that their hair is wet, it sticks to their face and hangs over one of their eyes. It's a good look, they decide. It hides more. It shields more. They look at their eyes, or, eye. It's red, still, and shining. Like a jewel.

Jewel.

When they look down, the blue jeweled collar is still placed firmly around their neck. It sends a wave a panic up their spine, and they hurriedly reach around them to rip it off. But just as they brush the collar, their hands stop. They hesitate, look at their reflection in the mirror, and slowly let their hands fall to their sides. They want to remove it, want to burn it, crush it, and yet they can't. They can't stop staring at how it looks, how it illuminates in the light.

How it looks like it belongs.

So they leave it on.

They open the bathroom door just enough to poke their head out, and their eyes catch the pile of clothes folded neatly on the floor. They take them inside, shut the door, and unfold them to reveal an old shirt, shorts, shoes, and undergarments.

The shorts are brown and worn out, possibly hand-me-downs. They're sure the shorts will look disgusting on them, but they slip them on anyway. It fits almost perfectly, maybe just slightly too loose.

The shirt is a whole different story. It's handmade, with darker-colored patches covering where possible holes may be. It's green, with a yellow stripe across the middle. The sleeves are long, and it almost looks like it's a turtleneck. When they put it on, it's slightly too big on them. The turtleneck part drags down their neck, and doesn't effectively hide the jeweled collar as much as they wished it would. The sleeves cover most of their hand, and only the edges of their fingers show. But it's comfortable, and better than the disgusting clothes they once had worn, so they slip on the shoes and exit the bathroom.

Toriel and Asriel are in the kitchen when they walk out, clothes in hand. Asriel runs up to them, takes the clothes, and nods before running out of the room. Maybe to wash them, or something. They probably should have said that they never wanted to see the clothes again. They'd rather him burn them, or something.

Toriel turns, and smiles at them. "Does it fit okay?" she asks, and when they look down at themself and nod, she chuckles. "I apologize if it is too large; those are my son's old clothing, and he is a bit bigger than you."

They tug on the sleeves, shifting from side to side, unsure what to do. Toriel notices their discomfort, and gestures to a chair. "Why not sit? The pie is almost done. It is butterscotch. I would have added cinnamon, but I am afraid I am all out."

They want to tell her they're allergic, but they don't.

There's a patter of footsteps from another room, followed by Asriel's voice. "Yeah, there's someone new!" they manage to make out, and they wonder who he's talking to. Another monster, they think.

Then Asriel runs out excitedly, and rushes over to his mother. There's a shadow by the door—small, shy, hesitant. They look over, but can't see anything other than a shining of a blue eye. They stare, waiting, and then the owner of the blue eye steps out.

It's a human. They're rather small, with dual-colored eyes—brown and blue—and very dark skin. The freckles dusting across their nose and cheeks are almost impossible to see with their color. Their hair is messy, dark, and cut short. They're dressed in a blue-and-purple striped sweater similar to Asriel's old clothing, and their eyes are wide.

Their eyes are filled with recognition.

"Frisk!" Asriel calls. "C'mon and help me and Mom with the pie!"

Frisk, the child's name apparently, tears their eyes away from them and walks away.

As Frisk, Asriel, and Toriel work with getting the pie out of the stove, they watch from their seat at the table. They want to run—their palms are clammy and sweaty. They tug the turtleneck up higher, trying to push down their collar. They should've taken it off, they should've got rid of it before they even left.

Frisk knew who they were. Frisk recognized them. Frisk was from their kingdom.

They tried to run, but then a pie was set in front of them, and Toriel was giving them a gentle smile. Frisk is still staring, and Asriel has a matching smile with his mother's. They glance from side to side awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

Then they opened their mouth and say the first letter of their name. They don't specify anything else as they dig into pie that had been set in front of them.

* * *

 **if you've made it this far bless you**

 **reviews are always appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**while i was writing this i spilled pop all over my lap and im dying but i continue to write anyways**

 **bc im Determined**

* * *

 _The queen of old's son was a happy child._

 _The prince was friendly, befriending everyone he met, righting wrongs, dispelling arguments and rumors. He was loyal, methodical, smart, talented... everything a prince should be._

 _When his mother died, he became ruthless and angry. He became selfish. He became destructive._

 _The kingdom began to fear the king rather than adore the prince._

 _\- The History of Humans and Monsters, by Anonymous_

* * *

As Frisk continues to stare at them, the door swings open, and a larger creature steps inside. He looks soft, and friendly, and has a large beard. Immediately, Frisk and Asriel run up to embrace him, letting out a chorus of _Dad!_ and giggling when the creature hugs them back in return.

Toriel smiles softly, walking up to the creature, and kisses his cheek.

Then the creature sees them, and they freeze in place. They hesitate to swallow the remaining pie in their mouth, their eyes daring to meet his.

"Dear, who is this?" the creature asks Toriel, and his voice rumbles deep and low. It's light, though, and curious. It makes them shrink in their seat.

Toriel's smile gets brighter. "This is... C," she says, recalling their use of the first letter of their name. "Asriel found them near the edge of the barrier. I believe they're from the human kingdom." Then Toriel looks over at them, and gestures towards the creature. "My child, this is Asgore, my husband. He works with the citizens and their accommodations, while I run mostly everything else." She giggles.

They blink, furrowing their eyebrows. They wonder if what they believe the two are insinuating is true.

Asgore's eyes trail downwards, and they follow them, only to realize that he's staring at their jeweled collar. Quickly, they pull up their turtleneck, and take another bite of pie to play it off. They're sure it doesn't work—Asgore's kind features and twinkling eyes seem to be a distraction from his much wiser, more methodical disposition.

"Well, we're glad to have you here!" Asgore says, clapping his hands together, and then he smiles at the pie. "I see my wife has already prepared you a pie. Do you like it?"

When they look up, they realize that everyone is staring at them, awaiting a response. So, they nod, albeit hesitantly, but it seems to be enough for them. They all smile, except Frisk, who just continues to stare.

Frisk knows. They're sure Asgore does, too. They think about taking off the jeweled collar, to avoid recognition, but the more they imagine it the more they feel they can't. Even if they hate their previous life and kingdom, the thought of their mother still remains. She cared about them, even if it didn't seem like it sometimes. Plus, their mother had told them to turn the collar into something of worth, rather than a symbol of possession.

Maybe turning it into something valuable would finally break their curse—break their connection to their heritage.

It's strange, but it makes sense of them somehow.

* * *

When they finish the pie, Toriel instructs Frisk to take them into the spare room beside Frisk and Asriel's shared room. It's meant for a guest, apparently, and they suppose they are a guest. They wonder when the monsters will kick them out.

Frisk opens the door to the room, stepping aside so they can walk in first. The room is small, and dusty, and the bed is just a twin bed, rather than the king-sized bed of clouds they slept in back at the kingdom. They grimace, and hope Frisk can't see their disgust. They're sure Frisk can, however, and try to wipe it away.

"I'll let you settle in," Frisk says, and their voice is very quiet. "Mom'll probably bring your clothes later."

They're tempted to tell Toriel to burn them, but they keep silent.

Frisk nods, and leaves. The door is shut with a loud click.

Once they're alone, they walk over to the bed, and lay down. They don't take off their shoes, or snuggle up under the covers. They just lay there, staring up at the cracked ceiling. Out of the corner of their eye, there's a spider on the wall, and it seems to be watching them. They ignore it. It'll go away eventually, they assume; they're not giving it much of a show.

* * *

They open their eyes groggily, and realize they had fallen asleep. They feel refreshed, surprisingly, and when they sit up, their clean and dry clothes are placed at the foot of their bed.

The memories of their dream fade away, the only image lingering is a pair of red eyes and a head of long, platinum-blonde hair. But that goes away quickly too.

They step out of the room, looking around for anyone in the hall, but it was hard to see with half their vision obscured by their hair. They make no move to brush it away, and decide to explore.

The door to Frisk and Asriel's room is closed, and they can hear faint talking and giggling from inside. They look out the window, and see Toriel working in the garden beside the house. Asgore is nowhere to be found.

There are not many rooms in the house. They discover another bathroom (which makes two, so far), another bedroom with a queen-sized bed (one side made neatly and the other a catastrophe), and a backdoor that leads outside.

When they reach the very end of the other hall, there's a shut door with no lock or label. They blink, and turn the knob. It's simple to push it open, too simple, and they brace themself for the worst once it swings open all the way.

The room is a study, complete with at least 4 bookshelves, a desk, and a chair in the corner. Curious, they walk in, shutting the door behind them. They wonder if it is Toriel's, or Asgore's, or both. They both seem like studious people.

Interested, they wander up to the closest bookshelf. Some books are labeled, some are not, so they grab one they can just barely reach, and read the cover. It's a book about magic, written by a human. They recognize the name of the author—it was one of the seven magicians that the queen of old's son pushed inside the barrier once they sealed it up. The pages are yellowed; they can't find a date on the book, but they assume it's old.

They flip to a random page.

 _Chapter 2: Magic Types_

 _There are a multitude of magic types, ranging from healing to destructive. The most powerful type is the destructive magic (ex: telekinesis, fire, mind control), but it is only stable when used properly. If the magic user is unstable and possessed with a desire to kill, the operation could go one of two ways._

 _1\. They unleash a power so deadly it could kill thousands._

 _2\. They die._

 _Not many monsters are able to control destructive magic, due to their lack of physical matter to hold the power in. Humans, on the other hand, if introduced with the existence of destructive magic, could rip the world apart._

 _This information must be kept out of the hands of the king._

They stare until the words blur together into black and white, and then turn to the next page—but there's no more mention of "destructive magic." Disappointed, they close the book, and move onto the next one. They don't bother reading the title.

Taking a seat on the floor, cross-legged, in front of the bookshelf, they flip to a page.

 _The History of Monsters_

 _After monsters were pushed far, far into the forest and trapped behind the barrier, they fell into chaos and despair. Some monsters even died during this period._

 _One day, the leader of the monsters, Asgore Dreemurr, rose up and was voted King of Monsters. His wife, Toriel Dreemurr, became the queen. Together, they ruled over together, setting things right and creating peace. They plan to break the barrier someday, to free all monsters and become one with humans once again._

 _There are rumors that the king and queen plan to get revenge on the humans, and take back the lives of monsters that were stolen by humans._

 _Only time will tell what path the king and queen will take._

Their eyes widen.

They had just ran away from royalty, and now they found themself smack dab in the _middle_ of it. How ironic.

They raise their eyebrows, eyes lingering on the "rumors" passage. Then they remember the destructive magic, and slowly close the book. An idea brews in their head—and admittedly, it's a _bad_ one, but still an idea nonetheless.

Humming to themself softly, they put away the book and reach up to grab every single one they can find about magic and how the human sorcerers learned them. Some were hard to reach, and they had to climb on the steps of the bookshelf in order to grab them, but once they were surrounding by a pile of books on the floor, they grabbed the first one and dug in.

They didn't even notice how Asgore's face peeked in the door slightly, a soft smile on his face.

* * *

They're still reading once it's night, and they hardly notice Toriel walk in, holding a candle to light the way.

"You shouldn't read in the dark, C," she says, and the name they gave her sounds weird on her tongue. "It's bad for your eyes."

They frown. Their mother would tell them that _all_ the time.

"Are you hungry?" Toriel tries, tilting her head. "I prepared dinner, although everyone else has already ate." She hesitates, and takes a step forward. "I figured that you would rather eat alone than with a big group."

That gets their attention. They glance up, eyes wide in confusion.

She smiles, like she knew. "Come on, I will not disturb your books." She gestures for them to follow, and when they do, she shuts the door behind them. "That is my husband's study, by the way, but I am sure he will not mind if you hang about there."

They look up at her from beneath their hair, and then back down in embarrassment. They feel their cheeks grow warm.

Now or never.

Their voice cracks as they say it. They look up, trying to fight the way their palms got clammy, and ask if they can learn magic. If Toriel, or someone, can tech them. They don't specify why, or say anything more.

Toriel blinks down at them for a few moments, and then smiles. "Of course," she says, and a pressure of relief falls on them in the form of her hand. She pats their head, and then their back to lead them into the kitchen.

There's food laid out—some kind of meat, and vegetables. It's not as fancy as the food back in the kingdom, but they assume that it'll be just as good.

(They're wrong. It's even better.)

* * *

The next morning, when they wake, they're about to retreat into the study until they stop in the doorway once they see Asgore sitting at the desk. They're about to turn back, but Asgore calls out to them, and draws them back.

"Oh, don't mind me. You may read all you wish," he says, and gestures to the, remarkably, untouched books. "I will not disturb you."

They hesitate, shifting their weight side to side, their fingers digging into the wood of the doorway. Asgore is still smiling, and his face looks so peaceful it makes their heart clench. So, they look down, and step inside, silently making their way to the books laid out.

Asgore turns back to his work, and they try to peek over his shoulder to spy. It looks like he's writing, a letter possibly, but they can't read it. Deciding to give up on snooping, they lay on their stomach on the ground, kicking their feet up in the air. It's a position that their parents reprimanded to them over and over, saying it was unfit for a "princess," but they did it anyway when they weren't watching.

They open the next book, and start to read. The scratching of pencil against paper begins to dull as they drink in the words like magic water.

After a few moments, Asgore mumbles out, "You said your name is... _C_ , correct?"

In their head, they idly remark that they never outright said it was their name, but outwardly, they make a hum of approval. Asgore reciprocates it.

"Well, C," he says, as if testing the name on his tongue, "I do hope you enjoy your time here. You may stay as long as you wish."

They don't make anything to acknowledge they heard him, but they're sure he knows anyway.

* * *

 **sweats this is kind of a filler chapter im sorry rip**

 **i hope you enjoyed anyways!**


	4. Chapter 4

_When the new king came into power, the brightness of the kingdom dimmed._

 _The crime rate rose, death rates rose, and the commoners fell into chaos._

 _When the queen of old's son found his new wife (by force, no less), she implemented new laws that would lessen crime and death and plague across the land._

 _The kingdom began to adore the new queen. This only made the king jealous._

 _\- The History of Humans and Monsters, by Anonymous_

* * *

When they opened their eyes, they're staring up at the ceiling. There's a spider staring at them again.

Memories begin to flood back, and as they sit up, they swiftly realize that they had fallen asleep researching magic. But that only made a new question arise—how did they get into bed? Did someone carry them, and if so, who?

They hear cheering coming from the other room, and throw the blankets off them. Their skin feels hot, and they don't bother changing their clothes before stepping out of their room. Their hands shake as the shut the door behind them.

In the kitchen, near the front door, Asgore is kneeling in front of his son and fixing his collar. Toriel is ruffling Frisk's hair, making jokes to the child as she fluffs it up. Frisk only giggles and jokes back.

The floor creaks when they step in further, and they flinch when all four turn to stare at them. Toriel is the first to smile and speak up.

"Oh, C! Good morning!" she greets, and her voice is way too chipper for someone in the morning. "We were just about to head out into town, and I was going to wake you and see if you wished to join us."

They glance behind her to see Asgore and Asriel giving them a hopeful smile. Frisk, however, just looks indifferent.

They look back up at Toriel and then glance to the side, nodding hesitantly. They ignore Toriel's happy gasp, and blink when she claps her hand together excitedly.

"Well, then go put on your shoes and we shall be good to go!" she orders kindly.

They nod and wander off to fetch their boots.

* * *

In the monster kingdom, there are no castles. They're not sure whether they're surprised or not. They suppose Toriel and Asgore's home could be referred to as a castle—it appears to be the largest home in the entire monster kingdom from what they've seen.

The town is simple, but larger than they expected. Houses and shops run along a sandy road, an old-looking fountain sitting in the center of the town. Monsters roam the area, chatting it up kindly. Nobody looks out of place (except, perhaps, themself), nobody is arguing with one another, nobody is fighting.

It's strange. The liveliness and friendliness is strange. Unsettling.

They find themself unconsciously moving closer towards Toriel. She grabs their hand quickly, and gives them a reassuring pat on the head. It's soothing.

Some monsters turn to stare at them, and they don't blame them. They're new, and human. None of them give odd looks towards Frisk however, and they assume that the child is a regular. They only wonder how on earth Frisk managed to get here—maybe they were a child or grandchild of one of the six magicians?

Weird.

Many citizens greet Toriel and Asgore, all with great respect. Some even bow, but, as humble as ever, the two kindly tell them there is no need. A few children run up and hug them, declaring how awesome they are for taking charge.

It's weird to see how many actually respect and love their rulers, rather than back at home where you were forced to abide by the rules, or be taken away and never seen again. How odd. They feel their stomach twist.

The first shop the five go into is a bakery. They didn't have enough time to read the sign over the door before they're dragged inside, and pulled in front of a very pretty spider lady at the counter.

"Uhuhu..." the spider lady chortles, and they see a name tag on her purple apron that reads Muffet, "and who is this?" Muffet looks up at Toriel and Asgore expectantly. "A new human to add to your ever-growing family?" Each word leaves her mouth like a song, and it leaves them breathless.

Toriel rolls her eyes. "This is C," she says, patting their back for emphasis. "We are introducing them to the town."

"Oooh," Muffet sings, and leans down a bit. A few spiders crawl around her and the counter, and they realize that the spiders look similar to the ones that had been in their bedroom. "Well, dearie, would you perhaps like a spider donut?"

They stammer, unsure what to say, but then Asriel steps up with a handful of gold and exclaims, "Three spider donuts, please!"

Muffet shifts her gaze to him, and eagerly takes the money. As she places the money into a jar, three spiders trail down from the ceiling through single, glimmering strings and hand each child a donut, including themself. Asriel takes his first, followed by Frisk, and they stare at their own for what seems like forever.

The spider in front of them seems to get impatient, and drops the donut into their hands before climbing back up. Muffet turns back to them, a sweet smile on her face, and sings, "Thank you for your contribution to the cause!"

They look over at Asriel and Frisk in confusion, and ask what exactly The Cause is.

Frisk is the first to answer, their mouth stuffed with donut and voice slightly muffled from it, "Oh, Muffet is trying to raise money to provide safe homes for all spiders." Asriel nods in agreement.

They make an oh sound, and look down at their donut. They feel Muffet's many eyes on them, and decide to take a bite. It tastes good, but there's some strange aftertaste once they swallow. They decide to just ignore it.

After the bakery, Toriel glances around the buildings for a few moments and then turns to her husband. "Where shall we go next?"

Asgore hums as he thinks for a minute. "Hmm... I am not sure."

Frisk suddenly makes an excited squawk, making the other four flinch. "Can we go see Sans and Papyrus!?" they exclaim, eyes sparkling. "We were gonna have a sparring tournament next time we went over!"

Toriel chuckles quietly. "Of course, my child," she says, and pauses, then adds, "Take C with you."

They don't miss the way Frisk's bright smile dims ever so slightly.

* * *

They weren't sure what they were expecting when Frisk and Asriel knock on the door to a brightly-lit home, but it sure wasn't this.

A very tall _skeleton_ opens the door, his bright smile seemingly permanently fixated on his face (skull?). Their jaw drops as he swings up Frisk and Asriel in his arms with an incredible strength, spinning around while yelling very loudly about something or other.

"I'M SO GLAD YOU TWO ARE HERE!" he shouts, and then when he nearly crashes into them, they accidentally let out a little yelp of surprise and it catches his attention. He stops, puts the other two down, and kneels down so he's at their height. "HELLO! WHO IS THIS, FRISK?" His voice is way too loud, and they grimace, stepping backwards.

"That's C," Frisk replies, giving them a once-over. "Asriel found them on the edge of the barrier a few days ago."

"IT'S VERY NICE TO MEET YOU, C! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL BE HAPPY TO BE YOUR FRIEND!" the skeleton shouts, and they realize he must be either a) very confident, or b) very full of himself.

Either way, they don't really care. So they just nod at him.

"ARE ANY OF YOU HUNGRY?" Papyrus asks, leading the three inside. "FORTUNATELY, I HAVE SOME SPAGHETTI I PREPARED JUST BEFORE YOUR ARRIVAL!"

Asriel leans in towards them and whispers, "His spaghetti tastes kinda gross."

They can't help themself; they snort.

"hey, bro, are the kids here?" asks another voice, coming from another room. It's low, and sounds very strange, and the owner steps out into the front room a few moments later. It's another skeleton, except he's much smaller—about as tall as Frisk. He's wearing a blue pullover with pockets and shorts, and his face is set in a permanent grin. His face is unsettling, and when his glowing white eyes settles on them, they flash. "who's the new one?"

"This is C!" Asriel exclaims, throwing an arm around their shoulder and pulling them flush to his side. "I found them by the barrier a few days ago! They're from Outside!"

"huh," is all the skeleton says at first. Then his eyes linger on their neck, and they instinctively reach up to pull their collar up their neck more. "the name's sans." He gives a wink, and they narrow their eyes in return.

Asriel lets go of them, and they slink away from the others in no time. As they all retreat to the kitchen, they decide to take a seat on the old couch placed against the wall. It's not very comfortable, and when they reach down to try and shift the cushions, their hands brush something hard and smooth. Pulling it out, they realize it's a large amount of gold. Watching to see if anyone is looking, they take the gold and put it in their pocket, and then slump against the couch.

The gold sits in their pocket comfortably, and they sigh. They're used to having so much more—never having to steal or lie just to get what they want. They said it, and there it was in seconds.

They wonder how things are back at the human kingdom.

Sometime during their brooding, Sans comes back out and gives them a dead stare. They look at him from the corner of their eyes, but don't make any move to acknowledge he's there.

"you're one snooty kid, aren't ya?" he chuckles, his hands in his pockets. His pupils are gone. "just 'cause you're rich or whatever?"

They glance down at their jeweled collar, and touch the blue stone.

"where did you come from, kid?"

They huff, turning their head away. Sans only gets closer.

"i heard there's a kingdom a bit ways outside the barrier," he continues, and the hairs on their arms stand at attention. "maybe you came from there? what, are you a noble's kid or somethin'? or maybe you're the—"

"Sans."

Startled, they turn to the owner of the voice, and it turns out to be Frisk. The child is glaring at the short skeleton, their dual-colored eyes blazing with what looks like fury. Sans just shrugs, and gives them a final look before leaving to join his brother and Asriel in the kitchen.

Frisk sighs once he's gone, and gingerly takes a seat next to the other. The child gives them a soft smile. "Sorry," they apologize. "He did that to me when I first got here, too."

They blink a few times, and quietly, almost inaudibly, ask how Frisk got here.

Frisk looks surprised at the question, but then they brush hair from their face and let out a slow breath. "Well, uh, I don't actually _remember_." The child laughs to themself and scratches the back of their neck. "All I remember is waking up in the middle of a flower patch, and then Mom and Dad are carrying me to their home." Frisk pauses. "I'm _sure_ I came from Outside... but no matter what, I can't remember anything except for my name. Sometimes I recognize things, but... I don't actually _know_ what they are." Frisk turns to stare at them. "I guess it doesn't really matter. I'm just fine here, with a happy family... So, what about you?"

They almost feel relief. Frisk doesn't know who they are.

But that doesn't mean they don't recognize them.

They open their mouth, and then close it, unsure what to say. Frisk is giving them an expectant look, so they simply, under their breath, mutter they're from Outside.

"Ooh, what was it like?" Frisk asks eagerly, and then eyes the jeweled collar. "Did you get the collar from Outside? It looks familiar."

They freeze, and then admit it was a gift from their mother. Not exactly the full truth, but not a lie.

Frisk whistles. "Must've been a rich family..." the child says, mostly to themself. Frisk slumps down against the couch.

They sigh, and nod, unnoticed by the child next to them. They have no idea.

* * *

When they return home, they're tired beyond hell. Not sleepy tired, no; just physically tired. Their stomach grumbles with the need for food, but they don't bother joining the others for dinner.

They retreat to their room, hiding themself under the safety of the blankets, and stare into the short darkness they're tucked inside. Their mind races back to the human kingdom, and what's happening. If the kingdom is in chaos, or if it's tranquil and peaceful. If everything has fallen apart from their disappearance, or if everything is better now that they're gone. If their parents have sent out everyone possible in search, or if they've already given up on them and tried for a new child to replace them.

They would prefer the latter out of everything else. Maybe the new child would be stable, and normal, and behave like a normal princess or prince should. Not the stupid faulty heir they are.

They wonder about the Lord, their betrothed. Or, rather, ex-betrothed. They wonder how he is doing.

They hope he's dead.

* * *

 **rip i have like 2 tests required for my graduation next week (and a 600 point history project i havent started) so updates will be slow af so rry**


	5. Chapter 5

**TFW FINALS AND EOCS**

* * *

 _With the addition of the new queen came the addition of the new prince._

 _The prince, adorned with his mother's brown eyes, was raised to be a proper heir of the kingdom. Many of the noblemen of the kingdom refused to accept him, due to the lack of red eyes that marked the royal bloodline. The king was accused of stealing a child, messing up the bloodline by marrying a peasant, and many ordered him to rid himself of the child._

 _But he didn't. He executed all that opposed his son's birth._

 _\- The History of Humans and Monsters, by Anonymous_

* * *

None of the monsters call them a girl. Or a boy.

They stare at their naked reflection in the mirror, eyes lingering on the ugly things on their chest that are starting to grow. They want to cut them off.

But none of the monsters care how they look. None of the monsters assume. They just don't, and use those gender-neutral terms. They don't ask.

The fact makes them wonder, makes them happy, but also angry. They're not sure why. They're confused.

There's a knock on the bathroom door, and they flinch. It's Toriel, and her soft, kind voice is like music to their ears, "C? Are you in there?"

They hesitate, but mumble a quiet reply.

"Oh! I am not rushing you, but we have a guest," Toriel says, and their blood runs cold, "who is very excited to meet you!" From somewhere outside the door there's a frantic, hushed whisper, followed by Toriel's giggle. "Once you are done, she would very much like to meet you."

There's footsteps retreating back, and they turn their gaze back to the mirror. They dry themself off, and pull on their clothes—the sweater is baggy enough to make them look flat-chested. They touch the stone on their collar, and feel heat come from it. Their fingers feel warm when they pull away.

They nearly forget to put on their shoes before stepping out—they want to be as covered up as possible.

When they walk into the front room, there's an unfamiliar monster standing there. She looks like a yellow lizard, wearing a white lab coat with patches sown in. She's about the same height as Frisk (who's only an inch or two shorter than them). She's sweating, oddly enough, and when her eyes catch theirs, she sputters out something they can't comprehend.

Toriel is standing above her, and _wow_ , does she look tall compared to the strange yellow lizard. "This is Dr. Alphys," she introduces, patting said lizard on the shoulder. "Dr. Alphys, this is C. The human child I told you about."

Alphys adjusts her cracked glasses, clears her throat, and gives them a once-over. "H-hello," she says, waving, and her voice sounds nervous. It's almost funny. When they don't reply and simply stare at her, Alphys visibly becomes more anxious. "U-um, ah... W-When the queen told me about a, uh, n-new human..." she stammers, as if trying to find her voice, "I became interested... a-and wanted to meet you."

They tilt their head, and give a quiet greeting. It seems to calm her down slightly.

"Y-You really came from Outside...?" Alphys asks, transfixed. When they nod, she beams, "Th-That's amazing! Do you remember anything from out there?"

They hesitate, but mumble a little _Everything_ , and Alphys looks like she's unlocked the mysteries of the universe. They suppose they can't blame her—the monsters' only apparent source of humans was Frisk, and the child could hardly remember a thing from the Outside.

Over the course of the next hour, Alphys continuously questions them about things pertaining to the Outside. They don't answer much, only giving little nods and shakes of their head and the occasional verbal reply. Toriel looks worried the entire time, her eyes fixed on them. After they begin to get just slightly uncomfortable, Toriel nudges Alphys away.

Alphys apologizes, promises to come back, and then leaves; all while smiling.

They stare at the door once its closed, and Toriel lets out a sigh. "I am sorry," she says, "but us monsters do not know much about humans."

They shoot their gaze towards her, and promptly say that humans don't know much about monsters. She looks shocked at their sudden remark, but nods, as if understanding. She thinks of something else to say, but then they hold up a hand, motioning for her to wait, and rush off towards Asgore's study. He isn't in there when they grab the book they want, flip to the page they desire, and rush back towards Toriel to show her.

It's magic. They point urgently towards the image of a monster using magic.

Toriel stares at the page and then back at them. "You wish to learn... magic?" she guesses.

They nod, pointing more.

Toriel looks nervous, and something else they can't decipher. She hesitates, and then lets out a small sigh of defeat. "Alright," she finally says, "if it will make you happy."

They want to smile, but they don't. They only pull the book closer to them, and feel tension in their shoulders fall.

* * *

Asriel comes into their room, a soft smile on his face. They look up, eyes narrowed. Just what exactly does he want?

"Me and Frisk were wondering if you wanted to play with us!" he says, as if reading their mind. "We're making bracelets and necklaces right now!"

They're not sure what to say—they want to say no, but they have nothing better to do. And they believe that Frisk hates them, and they don't want that. They're tired of people hating them.

So they swallow down whatever they were going to say before, and nod.

Asriel beams, taking their hand all of a sudden, and leading them into his and Frisk's shared room. Frisk is sitting on the floor on a blanket that had been spread across the wooden floor, their hands fumbling with the string of a bracelet they're weaving beads onto.

They blink, and look all around the room. There's two beds on each side of the room, both unmade. One is missing a blanket. There's a drawer in between the beds, with a candle on it. Most of the walls are blue, except for the one with the door—it's colored red.

Frisk glances up once they hear the door open; the child's eyes settle on them, and they suddenly feel as if they're not welcome. They're about to turn and leave when Frisk speaks up, "I didn't think you'd wanna come."

Asriel laughs, looking over at them. "Yeah, me neither!" Then he observes their face, pursing his lips. "I'm glad you're here though!" His words sound so _genuine_ that they want to throw up.

He sits cross-legged across from Frisk on the floor, and they follow—scooting a considerable distance away from the other two children. They're both fumbling with string and making jokes as they watch, and then Asriel turns to look at them, as if just remembering they were there.

He leans over, picking up a rather long string, and drops it in their lap. He pushes a pile of beads and different-sized symbols towards them, saying, "You can make whatever you want!"

They're not sure what they want to make. They pick up the string slowly, and it's as thin as a spider thread (their thoughts shift to Muffet, and they wonder if it really _is_ a spider thread). The string feels cold in their hands, and they spread the pile of beads across the floor to look at them. As Asriel and Frisk are distracted with making matching bracelets, they try to distract themself by picking up random symbols and throwing them back once they discover they don't like them.

They get frustrated, and are about to give up, until one particular bead catches their eye. It's larger than the others, red, and shaped like a heart—with a keyhole in the center. Blinking, they pick it up curiously. The red shine of the heart matches their eyes. It looks like a locket, except they can't open it. They figure the keyhole means there's a key to open it.

They hear an amazed gasp from beside them, and look up in surprise to see Asriel gazing at the heart in awe. They guess he wants it, but then he says, "Wow! You should make that into a necklace! It'll be _super_ cool!"

They already have a necklace, they're about to protest; except their "necklace" is a collar and more of a _trap_ than anything. They can't bring themself to take it off. Pulling their shirt collar up higher, they take the end of the string and slide the heart onto it. Their thin fingers shake as they try to tie the ends together to make it into a necklace. The other two seem confused as to why they aren't adding anything else.

Asriel takes it from their hands gently, a small smile on his face, and finishes tying it for them. Then he holds it out, but when they reach for it, he pulls back a little. They give him a confused look, but then they realize. They swallow, letting their head fall, and it almost feels like they're being _crowned_ as Asriel places the necklace around their neck.

When they lift their head, there's some strange feeling that goes through them. They look down, clasping the heart locket in their hand, and trace the keyhole with their fingernail. It's warm, oddly, and almost feels like it's _beating_. They don't hide the necklace with their shirt like they do with the jeweled collar, and let it fall so it bounces against their chest.

Asriel and Frisk both smile at them, and it makes them feel weird. They try to hide it by fumbling around with a few more bracelets. After the second one, they manage to get the hang of it, and soon they've made about two matching bracelets with each of them.

* * *

The next day, Toriel tells them she's going to teach them how to use magic.

She takes them outside, into an area where there's nobody else around, and puts her hands on their shoulders gently.

"Are you _sure_ you wish to learn magic?" she asks, and before they can reply, continues, "There are only a handful of humans who have ever been able to learn magic, and they had been learning and training for years. It may take quite a bit of time until you are able."

They nod, eyes blazing with determination.

Toriel sighs through her nose, and nods. "Alright," she agrees, and stands, moving backwards until she's distanced herself from them. "Magic is a very delicate subject within the monster kingdom, especially when it has to do with humans. Magic is what monsters are born with, and it is what humans must create themselves." Toriel narrows her eyes, extending her hands, and two fireballs swiftly blaze upon her furry palms. "You must find your magic within yourself and bring it forth—look deep into your soul, and unlock it."

Their soul. They blink, steadying themself, and close their eyes. They're not sure what they're supposed to do, and they can feel Toriel's fiery gaze on them, waiting for them to do something. So they focus, pausing on their heartbeat, and breath in tandem with each pulse. They feel calmer, somehow, and deep, deep inside them there's something beating, something _alive_ —they grimace. It feels weird, but feels _right_. They don't know what it is.

Then, all of a sudden, they're filled with determination, and something is ripping out of their chest.

When they open their eyes, there's a floating red heart pulsing in front of them. Their eyes widen, and they reach out curiously. Toriel is still staring, and they look up at her, quietly asking her what it is.

She looks surprised at the questions. "That is... your soul," she answers. "It is the very culmination of your being. You thrive through your soul. Only a human's soul may persist after death." She hesitates, sighing lightly. "Do the... humans Outside not teach you about your souls?"

They shake their head. Everything related to monsters and magic is illegal, punishable by death.

Toriel hums to herself, and nods. "We have much work to do."

From a large distance away from the pair, a set of eyes lingers on their body, observing, watching, taking notes, all very closely.

* * *

 **:0**


	6. Chapter 6

**sorry this is delayed! school is rough, y'all**

 **(warning: slight self-harm mention in this chapter. it's brief, but tread with caution)**

* * *

 _You may be wondering why I'm taking you so deep into the history of humans, and omitting the section on monsters. T hat is simply because humans have a deeper history to explore than that of monsters._

 _There are some parts, however, I cannot disclose on the subject of human history._

 _If you wish to know more, you must find me. There is a hidden map on the back of this page._

 _\- The History of Humans and Monsters, by Anonymous; (hidden pg. 103)_

* * *

It takes them three days just to even produce a spark from their fingertips, and another two to build up the strength to keep their skin from burning when they actually conjure up a flame.

The first time they do, the sun is setting and they're on their last attempt of the day. They're tired, Toriel looks tired, and they're just about to give up and turn in for the night—when they suddenly feel something _warm_ on their palms. Their eyes shoot open, awake and alert, and what they see is a blaze of orange and red dancing along their skin, the flames licking the air like its _waving_ at them. They feel like a candle from the way their skin feels like its melting, but also coming together to preserve the fire. They feel their muscles twitch, their soul flicker, and the feeling is uncomfortable and incredible all at once.

(When they look up at Toriel, wonder in their eyes, she's beaming and clapping and it makes them want to cry.)

Asgore tells them he's beyond proud, and all the praise just makes them want to try harder. So they do.

Each day, Toriel takes them out, far far away from anyone, and practices with them. Spars, sometimes, but it's rare. They can't fight, not yet, but they can produce a flame and make it grow and grow. It's amazing, it's _incredible_ —and they're 100% sure they would be executed by their father _himself_ if he ever knew what they were doing.

It makes them excited. Breaking the rules is exciting. After a life of rules and protocol, breathing and living as free as a blaze of flames is one of the most exhilarating things they've ever experienced.

Sometimes they wish they had ran away sooner.

* * *

The next magic type Toriel offers is healing magic. She says that even fire can be used to clear a wound of infection. All the information overwhelms them, and it takes them a day or two to even agree to being taught.

This time, Toriel teaches them much closer to other people. Giving examples by healing various monsters, she shows them what to do and how to do it, how to conjure up the will, how to control the actual healing qualities on actual wounds.

It's amazing. Magic is amazing. They can't understand why anyone would want to outlaw it.

It doesn't take them long to understand healing. By the time Toriel is done teaching them everything she knows, they're cutting themself and giving themself wounds just to heal it. For practice, they tell themself, but they wonder if it's for other reasons.

They don't care. They do it anyway.

* * *

When they ask Toriel to teach them about destructive magic, she refuses and bans them from reading the book any longer. They don't listen, and read further into the book nonetheless. When they realize that no one they know is willing to teach them what they desperately want to know, they learn they must travel elsewhere to get the information they need.

However, not sure who else to turn to, they go to Frisk. The child is extremely surprised when they ask of any way they may be of some help.

Frisk blinks at them, looking confused, before snapping their fingers in realization and turning to fetch something from under the bed. "Wait!" the child exclaims, looking excited as they shuffle through various things that had been previously shoved underneath. "I might have something that can help!" It takes a few moments, but then Frisk eventually manages to pull what looks like a book out. It's dusty, and the child blows on it to rid of the dust. Trotting up to them, Frisk drops the book in their open hands. "I found it in Dad's study a while back, and it looked secret! So I hid it so... nobody would know I had it."

Frisk looks sheepish, but they pay no mind as they flip it open to read the cover page. The History of Humans and Monsters, it says. Raising their eyebrows, they look up at Frisk, who just scratches behind their neck and laughs nervously.

"Yeah, it's pretty freaky. It talks about the 'queen of old' and whatnot," Frisk says, making air quotes. They eye the book, and then look up at their face, narrowing their dual-colored eyes. "What do you want with it anyway?"

Not sure how to explain, they purse their lips and think for a moment. Then they simply reply they have a plan, and leave it at that. Frisk doesn't pry any further.

* * *

On one of the final pages, there's a message about secret information. On the back of that page, there's a map. The map is of the monster kingdom, and it leads to an X.

They plan to follow it, ripping the page out and shoving it in their pocket. Next time Toriel takes them out on the town and leaves them to their own free will, they plan to take the path that will lead them to victory.

Except they don't even know what their victory will be. They guess they'll figure it out once they get there.

* * *

"Be careful, children!" Toriel calls, clapping her hands together as she looks back over at the three. "Stay in this vicinity!"

"Okay, Mom!" Asriel shouts back, waving eagerly. His matching bracelet with Frisk's shines in the sun.

As soon as Toriel is out of sight, they rip the page out of their pocket and study it, trying to figure out where they are in terms of the map. Asriel looks over curiously, but then shove away from him. It only makes him more determined to see, and once he does, he lets out a gasp.

"Is that a _treasure_ map!?" he asks excitedly, eyes sparkling. Frisk is behind him, looking suspicious but oddly curious.

They glance down at the map, and nod, not wanting to reveal its true identity.

"We should _totally_ follow it!" Asriel suggests, bouncing up and down. "Let's do it! Right, Frisk?" He turns to his adoptive sibling, who flinches at the sudden mention of their name.

Frisk looks between both them and Asriel, feeling their hard stare and Asriel's eager one. Defeated, they sigh, their shoulders slumping, and nod. "Alright."

"Yes!" Asriel is elated, his ears flopping as he spins to face them. "C'mon, where does it lead to?"

They shrug, and point to the X on the map.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

* * *

The map takes them farther and farther away from the monster kingdom and any signs of civilization until they're deep, deep inside the woods. Asriel is beginning to get scared, Frisk is suspicious, while they're indifferent.

They lead, holding the map close to them as they carefully take steps forward, going slow to make sure they're following the map. They can idly hear Frisk trying to reassure Asriel that it's fine, and we're not going to die.

The forest is dense, and it was impossible to see a thing through it. But when they look up, they see smoke trailing off towards the sky, and automatically point to it to alert their companions.

The smoke belongs to a small wooden house, smoke coughing out from a chimney on the side. It's quaint, and almost similar to Sans and Papyrus' house, except somehow... _darker_.

They look down at their map. The X is right where the house is.

"Is _this_ it?" Asriel asks, and when they nod, Frisk decides to take one for the team and knock on the door before anyone can stop them. The other two follow swiftly, all gathering in a semi-circle around the door.

It takes about a few minutes until it creaks open slightly, and a single eye pokes through the darkness to peer at them. "Who is it?" The voice is gruff, and it sounds weird.

Wordlessly, they hold up the map so the person behind the door can see. The single eye widens, and then the door slams shut so the person can unlock it. Once it opens again, there's a man standing there. He's dressed in what looks like a black cloak, and he almost looks like a skeleton.

The three all stand there staring at him, until he clicks his tongue and ushers them inside. "Come along now, in you go," he says, and his voice is much clearer than before. Once the door closes behind them, the three are all surprised to see the theme of wood on the interior of the house as well.

The man suddenly kneels in front of them, grabbing them by the chin, and forcing them to swivel around so he can look into their eyes. He studies the red for what seems like forever, and they begin to sweat, not sure what to do. Then he glances down, looking at the jeweled collar just barely poking out from the neck of their sweater, and stands. He's tall—much taller than any of the three children.

"I was hoping one of you would come someday," he says, ominously, and they wonder if he's talking about them, or just a human in general. "But now that you've come with the map, I assume you want to know of the information I have."

They narrow their eyes, and promptly tell him they wish to learn of destructive magic. While their companions freeze up behind them, the man doesn't bat an eye.

He's silent for a moment, and then puts a hand on their shoulder. His touch is cold. "Come with me." He walks out, and they don't hesitate to follow. Their companions try to stop them, but once the two realize they can't, the two simply join them.

In a room off to the side is a single door, and the man takes out a key from his sleeve to unlock it. Just as the lock clicks, Asriel calls out, "Hey, wait! Just who are you?"

The man stops, his hand freezing on the doorknob. "I'm the one who bears the truth," is all he says before swinging the door open.

The door leads to a deep set of stairs, descending down and down into impossible darkness. He steps down with no hesitation, and they just stop themself for a moment before following. Their companions are far less complacent, and it takes the two a few moments before they're, as well, slowly and hesitantly following. The stairs are steep, and they nearly trip, but manage to stay grounded as they follow the strange man down.

The strange man takes them to what looks like a lab—although outdated and old, like no one has used it for centuries. Asriel and Frisk are about to turn back and run, until the door above them slams shut and seems to lock itself. They're not afraid, though, and simply give him a blank stare, focused and yet not at the same time.

"Your entire family is a lie," he says to them, and the words are like poison on his tongue. It doesn't affect them, but it does make them curious. "You say you banned magic ages ago, along with all monsters." The man narrows his eyes. "Your family neglected to inform you that they've been using magic forever. It thrives throughout the castle, a secret to all save the royal family."

Their eyes widen, dying words on their tongue. They want to say something, but they're not sure what.

"Your family is planning to take down all monsters, in fear of being threatened by what they determine 'outside forces'," the man says. "The reason for this, is because they know I've unlocked a way to destroy the barrier that traps us all in here."

At the mention, Asriel perks up. "What!? You can _destroy_ it!?"

While he's focused on the barrier, Frisk puts their attention to the mention of their family. The royal family. The child glares at them, as if trying to decipher something, but they only avoid their gaze and turn their attention towards the man.

The man nods at Asriel. "Yes. The barrier was created unwillingly by six human magicians, therefore they made it relatively simple to break. The king never realized this until recently." He pauses, and turns away. "We must destroy it before they do, or else the humans will rampage the monsters and destroy us all."

Frisk steps up, eyes hard. "How do you know all this? _Why_ are you telling us this!?"

"Straight to the point, I see," the man murmurs, and then sighs. "Because I have been waiting for the one to take us all there." He promptly swings around and points at them, making their red eyes widen in shock. "You. The humans will solely trust you, and it is for that reason you will lead monsters into the kingdom and strike when least expected."

"...Huh!?" Asriel gasps. "We're going to attack the humans!?"

"No," the man corrects. "We will only teach them a lesson. Humans must learn to coexist with monsters, or else natural order will fail."

"How come the humans'll only trust C?" Frisk asks, their fists clenching. " _I'm_ human too, y'know." They put a hand to their chest as if to emphasize.

The man makes a sound that makes it seem like he's laughing. "But you are not royalty."

"'Royalty'...?" Frisk repeats softly, and then whirls around to face them with a gasp. "You're _royalty!?_ "

"The red eyes of the queen of old, as well as the jeweled collar of the queen of now," the man explains, ignoring the furious glare those red eyes are giving him. "Telltale signs of the missing child of the king and queen."

"You ran away," Asriel realizes. "You ran away from the kingdom!"

"They were betrothed to a Lord from another land," the man continues, looking smug. "A Lord who would, no doubt, lead the humans to war against monsters."

They step up to swing at him, and when he grabs their wrist, they growl out how he knows everything about them.

The man releases their arm, and his touch is cold when it leaves them. "Because I do not exist."

Asriel furrows his eyebrows. "Wha—"

"There is no time," the man says hastily. "In order to break the barrier, you must accumulate the six souls of the human magicians who were locked in here. If they agree, they will destroy it."

They sigh, and quietly ask where the souls are.

"Ask your father," is all the man says, and then their vision goes black for a second. When it returns, the man is gone, and they're standing outside the house. Except there is no house, and it's like it was never there.

Asriel blinks. "...I wasn't just imagining all that, was I?"

Frisk bites the inside of their cheek, and turns. "C," they say, "I think we need to talk to a few people."

* * *

 **me: includes gaster in some weird way in all my undertale fics**

 **sorry this chapter was so short and awful im so ashamed**


	7. Chapter 7

_There is a prophecy._

 _The Angel. The One Who Has Seen The Outside._

 _They will come._

 _And the underground will go empty._

 _\- The History of Humans and Monsters, by Anonymous_

* * *

They're not sure if they believe the man's words. As Asriel and Frisk search all over for Asgore, they stay behind in their room, face pale and hands shaking as they stare at them. There's dirt caked under their fingers, and their skin is stained with what looks like blood. Probably their own.

 _"Your entire family is a lie," he says to them, and the words are like poison on his tongue. It doesn't affect them, but it does make them curious. "You say you banned magic ages ago, along with all monsters." The man narrows his eyes. "Your family neglected to inform you that they've been using magic forever. It thrives throughout the castle, a secret to all save the royal family."_

Their breath catches in their throat. Can they _really_ use magic? Is the wonderful ability _natural_ in them? Is that why they've been able to learn magic so _quickly_ and Frisk can't even produce a _spark?_

To test, they flick their fingers. A tiny flame immediately appears, trailing along the pads of their fingertips and down their palm. The edges of the flame are white. They marvel at it for a moment, and then shake their hand to dissipate it. They think back to the most powerful kind of magic—destructive magic. Fire had been a subsection of the destructive type. They wonder if fire is a stepping stone to unlocking it.

They're sure Asgore nor Toriel would ever teach them, or that anyone in the monster kingdom would know it. They figure they're on their own.

Except they don't know how to unlock destructive magic.

If magic really is rooted deep within them, then they would have to concentrate and go inside themself deep. So deep they would uproot things they never want to see.

They take a deep breath. They settle themself cross-legged on their bed, and close their eyes.

* * *

They open their eyes. They're in the throne room. They almost panic until they see the floor whir like a wave. It's a dream, something from their subconscious; a memory.

" _Chara, dear, get up off the floor,_ " they hear their mother's voice, and it's deja vu. " _You'll ruin your dress._ "

They scowl, dropping their head to hide it, but comply nonetheless. When they look down, they're as regal as ever. Their hair is long and neat, their bangs pinned back with their tiara. Their skin is clean and porcelain. Their dress is golden and laced with orange. When they look down at the crystal-clear floor, their face looks like a child's. They're 5 years old in this dream.

" _Come along now, dear,_ " their mother says, walking up and placing a hand on their head. " _Father is coming._ " They see she is decorated with the jeweled collar, and automatically put a hand to their neck.

A man steps out onto the throne—their father. He looks the same as when they left the kingdom, except less angry and disappointed with them. He sits on the throne, and their mother bows. No wanting to ruin anything, they bow as well.

Their father smirks. " _Ah, my lovely girls._ "

They want to gag. They're _not_ a girl. They keep their head down, even as their mother looks up with a gentle smile. It looks forced.

" _Come to me, my love_ ," their father says, motioning for their mother to walk up. She does, and he forces her to sit on his lap like she's some kind of concubine. She looks uncomfortable, as if she's in pain. Their father turns to them, and his expression is unreadable. " _My child, this land will soon be yours. You'll have a strong king to care for you,_ " he says, but they try to ignore him. " _You will take the upper hand in our battle._ "

Battle. They remember him saying that, but they never understood what he meant. Did he mean the battle between humans and monsters?

" _And when you are old enough..._ " their father continues, and when they glance up, there's a strange glimmer in his eyes (his eyes that _aren't_ red), " _I will tell and teach you all you must know._ "

Perhaps he meant teaching magic. His voice is strange.

" _You are the perfect heir to the throne. Adorned with the red eyes of the legendary queen of old, the symbol of the royal family._ "

They want to retort, that neither of their parents have the red eyes of the royal family. That their grandparents didn't, neither their great-grandparents or before then. The only one with red eyes besides them had been the queen of old.

Their mother whispers something to their father, and he nods with a hum. " _Yes, yes, but you are a bit too young to understand all this now. Run along, my dear Chara. Go play in your room or study for your upcoming lessons. I have business to attend to._ "

When he waves them off, they turn to leave, but they only sink straight through the floor.

* * *

The next time they open their eyes, it's a different memory. It's not one they recognize.

The castle looks different—it's far bigger and decorated with a lot of red. They're sitting on a throne, and when they look down, they're not in their own body. They look bigger, taller, older. Their dress is possibly the most beautiful and luxurious one they've ever seen. Glancing back over at the stretch of a glimmering floor, three monsters walk by.

They jolt, shocked. Just _where_ are they?

 _"My queen,_ " says a far-off voice, and their eyes widen. _Who_ are they? _Where_ are they? " _My queen, are you listening?_ "

They open their mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. Their throat begins to burn. Then, they realize—the queen of old had been described as mute. The queen of old ruled during a time when monsters prospered alongside humans.

They're reliving a memory of the queen of old. _They're_ the queen.

Their hands shaking, they nod at the voice.

A monster steps in front of them. It's the man from the book, the one that made the map. " _Your son has escaped._ "

Their body moves on their own, against their own will. But they suppose it's not exactly _their_ body. Their body swings its arm across the air in front of them, and stands. They feel tall. The man nods as if understanding, and runs out of the room.

They're waiting, they think. Or, at least, the _queen_ is waiting. But for what? Her son? What has he escaped from? From the history of the kingdom, the queen was murdered by a monster, and her son took control.

Maybe it's all completely wrong.

Then, a dark figure steps into the room, and the atmosphere turns from calm to chilling.

They shiver, and the queen (their body, her body) stands straight up. They're forced to watch through her eyes as the dark figure jumps to the side, an arc of fire shooting from his feet and heading towards her. The queen ducks back, effectively avoiding it. She holds her hands out in front of her, cracking her fingers, and the structure above them starts to crack and crumble. Their arms are hurting, but the queen doesn't stop. She grits her teeth ( _their_ teeth grit of _her_ will), and soon it all collapses on top of the figure.

" _Mother_ ," the figure says as he shifts himself out of the rubble, lifting it effortlessly without touching it, " _your time must come to an end. You are a plague on this world, and so are these disgusting monsters._ "

In a moment, they realize. This attacker is the queen's _son_. And they're both using _destructive magic_. To _fight_ against each other.

They're sure they know how this ends. The queen's son wins, and murders her. Frames it on a monster, and sends them deep into the forest to seal them inside forever.

But apparently it isn't all, because when the queen's son finally slays her and she falls to the ground, they're still there, watching through her eyes. They figure she hasn't died yet, hanging on to the edge of life by her fingertips.

From the limited view they have, despite all the cloudy vision, they see six figures stumble into the room. The queen's son whirls around from his work, and he screams at them. Rocks and broken pieces of the throne room come flying at them, but one of the figures—the one dressed in green—steps forward and creates what looks like a shield around the six.

" _Do you REALIZE what you've done?_ " the green one hisses, looking livid.

" _You will be banished once the kingdom hears of what you've done,_ " says the one dressed in yellow.

The queen's son chuckles. " _That's why no one will hear about it._ " He outstretches his arms as he steps towards them. " _I am your new king, as my first order of action, I hereby banish all monsters for the crime of murdering my mother—_ "

Then it all goes black, and they're falling.

* * *

They gasp once they're back in their room, shaking uncontrollably and coughing. There's someone near them—Frisk, they realize—and the child grabs them and holds them close, trying to ask what's wrong and if they need help.

Once their initial panic dies down, they shake their head. They mumble they're okay, and while Frisk doesn't look convinced, the child nods.

"We have Asgore waiting for us," Frisk says, patting their shoulder. The action is soothing. "We explained everything. He's waiting for you."

They nod, dumbfounded, and make to follow Frisk when the child steps out of the room. Before they walk out, they pause, and turn back to their room. A million thoughts fly by their head, all of them dumber than the last.

In one swift motion, they lift their hands with a determined look. In response, the entire room falls into chaos. The side tables fall, the lamp cracks and shatters with dramatic sound, the window shatters like its nothing, the doorknob pops off. Startled, they jump back.

 _Destructive magic_ , they realize. And it's as easy and uncontrollable as ever.

In their veins, they feel a presence. They don't know who or what it is, but it's comforting. It's familiar.

Closing the door the best they can, they turn to follow Frisk.

* * *

Asgore is hesitant as he takes them to the cellar, where six jars await them. Each is filled with a colored heart, a soul. The colors match the ones of the queen of old's memory—the six magicians that sealed the barrier.

Now they realize why the son pushed them inside. They knew too much.

"Here they are..." Asgore says slowly. He looks worried.

"Thanks, Dad," Asriel says with smile, and then turns to them. "You _really_ want to do this? This entire plan is relying on _you_ , y'know."

They don't even look at him as they nod, gaze focused on the souls. They kneel down, and wrap their arms around the six jars, holding them close to their chest. The souls begin to glow, and the jars crack slightly as the ground shakes. The entire world around them goes black, save for themself and the souls.

Then the souls are free, and six figures are standing (or rather, _floating_ ) in a circle around them.

" _You summoned us?_ " asks the one dressed in dark blue. Their voice echoes.

They nod, and explain their situation. That they need the magicians' help. That they are the future of humans and monsters, and there will be a massacre of monsters without the magicians' help.

After they finish, their throat hurts. The one dressed in yellow squints suspiciously at them. " _You look familiar,_ " the magician says. " _Your eyes. They match those of the queen._ "

Each magicians looks at one another, and nods collectively. Then the magicians turn to look at them.

" _The queen's son forced us to go along with his plan, or he would murder those we loved as he murdered the queen,_ " the one dressed in light blue says, sounding sullen. " _We knew he would not hesitate, so we formed the barrier for him. But... then he shoved us in._ "

" _When we were shoved in, the barrier absorbed our bodies, leaving only our souls behind. We lived endlessly around the forest, until the King of Monsters came and put us in those jars to preserve us,_ " continues the one dressed in purple.

" _Not just any human can pass through the barrier and survive,_ " the one in orange says. "Y _ou must be strong. You must be determined. Each of us had been weakened by the king's threats, dragged into fear by what he would do._ "

" _We will help you,_ " whispers the yellow magician, and then gives a grin. " _You are our only hope now._ "

Somehow, the pressure is all too much, and they want to cry.

Suddenly, there's hands on them and Asriel is pulling them back from the jars. Their vision is blurry when the jars shake and shatter, the souls floating up towards the sky and disappearing.

In the distance, there's the sound of something snapping in half.

* * *

 **sorry this was so late! reviews are always appreciated!**


	8. Chapter 8

_And here they come._

 _\- The History of Humans and Monsters, by Anonymous_

* * *

Within an hour, word spreads around that there's something wrong with the Barrier. Reports (as well as rumors) depict it as rumbling faintly and looking like its shaking. No one has dared to come near it.

Nobody except them.

They go, and Asriel and Frisk follow. When they go, Toriel and Asgore trail after them.

And here they stand, gazing up at the practically invisible Barrier that traps them inside. Except they can see a faint silver lining the air, something invisible wobbling like the air when it's hot out.

They blink.

"What did you _do_ , C?" Toriel asks breathlessly.

"They're going to destroy the Barrier," Frisk says softly. "They're going to save us."

"What...?" Toriel mumbles, shaking her head incredulously. "No—I... I _cannot_ allow this! It is _far_ too dangerous for a child!"

They're 14, they want to say, but stay silent. They only continue to stare at the Barrier, hands and fingers twitching in anticipation. They want to touch the Barrier, but then they remember what happened to the six magicians when they had been pushed through—upon first impact, their souls were ripped from their bodies and their physical forms evaporated.

They inhale deeply, shakily.

"Tori," comes Asgore's deep voice. "It is alright. I trust them."

Asriel gives a soft smile up towards his parents. "Don't worry, Mom! Me and Frisk will be with them all the way through!"

The declaration only gives Toriel more worry. "But... you three are _children!_ " she protests.

Frisk lets out a tiny, exasperated sigh, and turns. "Mom," the child says softly, seriously, "please let us do this. If you want, you can send out some of the Royal Guard to watch over us."

Toriel seems to mull over the idea for a few moments, and then she sighs. She hangs her head, defeated. "Alright," she finally agrees, her voice a whisper in the wind. "Be careful, my children."

She kneels, and wraps Asriel and Frisk in her arms before giving each of them a loving smooch on the forehead. She pauses, and then looks at their back. "C..." she says, and when they turn around, she gives them a soft smile, outstretching her arms.

They stare at her for what seems like a long time. Never in their previous family did anybody show affection (their mother would pat their head sometimes but that was the most). And now Toriel, a woman who had hardly known them, was offering to give them a _hug_.

They don't hesitate to launch themself into her arms. Her grip tightens around the three of them, and they flinch when they feel a pair of lips against the crown of their head.

Toriel lets them go, and they turn back towards the Barrier.

Taking a step forward, fingers shaking anxiously, they brush their fingertip against the Barrier. The Barrier makes a strange whirring noise—

—and then shatters like glass.

* * *

Out of the corner of their eyes, they can see dogs—the Royal Guard—trying to inconspicuously spy on them as they traverse closer and closer to a place they'd once called home.

"Is that...?" Asriel asks, voice trailing off. The gates of the kingdom are high and mighty, quite far off, but visible even in the distance.

They nod, and don't say a word. Their heart is pounding. Their hands are sweating. They want to cry and scream and vomit all at once—but they force themself to remain silent.

"...I know this place," Frisk murmurs, furrowing their eyebrows. Asriel turns to them with a questioning noise, and the child clarifies, "I... _recognize_ it. I feel like I've been here before."

Asriel's eyes widen. "Maybe this is where you lived!"

"...Maybe."

Asriel purses his lips, and turns to them. "So, what's the plan?"

They hesitate, but admit their plan is to take down their father. The King of Humans.

Frisk's eyes widen so much it looks like they're popping out of their head. "What!" they gasp. "Just how do you think you'll manage to do _that?_ "

They wordlessly lift their hands, and flick their wrist in front of them. A wave of fire billows out across the ground, charring the grass and destroying the land. When they step on it, the grass melts away completely.

Frisk nearly stops out of surprise. "Whoa... you're gonna _kill_ him?" The child sounds worried. "Isn't there, uh, _another_ way you can do it that involves... _no_ killing?"

They don't reply, and keep on walking.

* * *

The three slowly get closer and closer to the entrance of the kingdom, and right before they're in range, they stop.

"How are we supposed to get in?" Asriel asks, and gestures to himself. "I'm kind of... well, _illegal_ here."

They purse their lips, and then gesture to the sides of the kingdom walls with two hands. Murmuring something about secret entrances to them, they wait until Asriel and Frisk are out of sight until they turn their attention to the gates.

The sun is high in the sky. They don't have the night to conceal them.

Taking a deep breath and willing back the strange urge to cry, they stalk towards the gates.

There are two guards posted there, standing in what looks like heavy armor. They're chatting idly with one another, but then the two notice them approaching and burst into action. They each point each other's spears at them, towering far far above them and looking almost downright terrifying. Except they're not afraid.

They only stare up at the two guards, their red eyes shining.

"...It's you," one murmurs, and turns to her partner. "It's the princess! Inform the king immediately!"

They resist the urge to gag. Instead, they let the guards stand in front and behind of them, leading them to the castle. The castle is darker and larger in the distance, and now that they've gained an outside point of view, they can see why so many of the villagers in their kingdom find it to be terrifying.

There's whispers across the citizens as the guards force their way through.

"Is that the princess?"

"The _missing_ one?"

"It is!"

"I wonder where she went!"

"I heard she _died!_ "

"I heard she went to the forbidden forest!"

"Don't be stupid— _nobody_ comes back from there."

"Then where _could_ she have gone?"

"What's with those clothes?"

 _She. Her. Princess._ The terms make them shiver. Their hands itch to destroy.

The castle doors creak as they open, and the sound chills them to the bone. It's the most terrifying thing they've ever heard. Inside the castle is the same as they remember, except almost bleaker and grayer. The guards lead them inside, until the three are standing before the man on the throne.

The king. He's as cruel-looking as ever.

"Why have you come unannounced?" the king demands, sounding annoyed. His voice is harsher.

The guards bow wordlessly, and one steps aside to reveal them. They, however, do not bow. They stand tall, angry red eyes boring into his.

He blinks, realization dawning upon his features. "Oh... my dear Chara..." he whispers, slowly rising out of his throne. "You... you have returned...! I thought you'd be lost forever, but—"

Before he can race towards them, they throw their arm out and outstretch it in his direction. He's frozen in place, and his eyes widen in terror.

"What... are you..."

The guards race towards them, but without moving their outstretched arm, they kick their leg out and send the guards both flying backwards. The two slam against opposing walls, groaning and losing consciousness.

"You... are _not_ my daughter," the king hisses, and they want to retort that no, they aren't and they never were. But then he grins, and suddenly they're being lifted in the air like it's nothing.

Their father stands there, his arms raised. "You think you're _so_ smart, my dear Queen." He sends them bounding backwards with a twitch of his fingers, and they're groaning once their head hits the cold tile floor. They feel weak and wobbly as they prop themself up on their hands, glaring at the king with shaky vision.

 _They're not a queen_ , they want to say, but their throat is dry and throbbing, and they cannot say a word.

"I knew what _really_ happened to the monsters," the king hisses, chuckling as he steps off the stage and onto the floor. He cascades his arms out in front of him proudly. "I've _always_ known! But I kept it a secret."

He flourishes his hands, and their body spins upside down in the air before slamming against a pillar. They hear a cracking noise, and know something is probably broken, and when they slide down to the floor on their stomach they groan lifelessly.

"Do you want to know _why_ I kept it a secret?"

They don't. But he's going to tell them.

The king steps forward and grabs them by the hair, jerking their head back so he's glaring into their eyes, a painful grin stretched across his features.

"Because I knew who you _really_ were. From the _start_." He spits in their face.

Disgusted, they throw their arm out, and the king is suspended in the air. He flails, but manages to stay calm as he chuckles out, "Don't you wish to discover what I mean, my dear Chara? My _darling_ girl... you were going to be something _great_." He sneers. "But you just had to run away with those _filthy monsters_ , didn't you?"

They listen no more, and practically throw themself to the side in their efforts to slam their father against the wall. He crashes through it, the wall cracking from the hole made. They pant, struggling to climb to their feet, as the king angrily storms out of the hole in the wall.

"I'll bet you've become one of _them_ ," he spits at them, eyes ablaze and swirling with rage. A strange black color emits from his hands. "You were _never_ fit to be an heir. Too much of the queen of old inside you." He grins. "Your betrothed would have taken care of you nicely."

They clench their jaw, adrenaline coursing through their veins. It makes them feel weak, and they shudder. Pain spreads across their body, and they know they're bleeding somewhere.

"C!" a voice calls.

Startled, they turn to see Asriel and Frisk running into the throne room through opposite entrances, and then stop, shocked to see one another. They gasp softly, and urgently motion for them to go away, but it's too late. The king sees.

And he grins.

"Is _this_ who you've been with all this time?" he cackles, throwing his arms out to stop the two forcefully. "A _monster_ and a little _freak?_ I almost pity you, my darling girl."

"PUT THEM DOWN."

The shout comes from the broken entrance to the throne room, and they whirl around to see an unfamiliar figure standing tall—blue, with scales, and long red hair tied in a ponytail. The fish woman is dressed in armor, and there's magic blue spears hovering above her head and one clenched in her hand. Multiple monsters dressed in armor follow—including Asgore and even Papyrus.

The king raises his eyebrows. "Have you brought the _entirety_ of the monster kingdom just for me to slaughter?" he asks wistfully, his voice taking on a darker turn. "What a wonderful gift!"

The monsters get into position. Guards from all around flood behind the king, and the king clenches his fist to hold Asriel and Frisk up higher. They both struggle and gasp, and they can faintly see an invisible grip around their necks.

"I said put them down," the fish woman hisses, her sharp teeth bared.

The king only smirks. "Let's play."

And the battle begins.

* * *

 **next chapter: the battle of monsters and humans**


	9. Chapter 9

With the start of the battle comes the start of the rain—first a light drizzle then a downpour. The roar of thunder is almost as loud as the roar of the monsters and humans.

The King of Humans' guards line up, taking on monster after monster. They can see dust and blood scattering across the floor within moments, and their heart clenches. They're still sunken to the ground, and when they look up, they see their father leave towards the dungeon with Frisk and Asriel in his hold.

They struggle, legs wobbling, as they stand. The rain is coming through a hole in the ceiling, wetting the ground and those under it, and some guards slip and slide on the ground. Out of the corner of their eye, they see a human guard jab a sword through a monster's forehead. It makes them want to vomit.

A guard is charging towards them, his face concealed by armor. They gasp, startled, and jump back until they hit a pillar. The guard is holding a chipped sword, and he swings it towards their head. They duck, clutching their side when a spark of pain jumps at them, and quickly attempt to scramble away. The guard grips onto their pant leg, and they grunt when their chin hits the ground and they're pulled back. They spin until they're laying on their back, and their grin on their side tightens when the guard brandishes the sword above them. The blade of the sword comes down, and they move from left to right to avoid each hit. The tip scratches at their arm when they roll to the side, and the guard's foot pushes them up against the wall by the neck.

The guard looks strained as he holds up the sword again, grip tightening and foot clenching, but before he can jab it through them there's a blue hand on his shoulder and one punching him across the face. The guard falls like he's nothing, and they look up wearily to see a blue hand outstretched to them. When they take it, the monster lets them up hurriedly.

"You okay, kid?" the monster asks, and they recognize her as the fish woman who had led the monster army. They don't remember her name.

They nod, blearily, and nearly miss the vial of water tossed to them.

"Drink this. It'll help," the monster offers, giving them a nod before charging back towards the main battle with a ferocious roar. They can vaguely see splatters of blood on the back of her armor.

They down the water, tossing it somewhere behind them, and it takes a few moments for the magic to really settle in. Once it does, they feel much better and refreshed, and their vision becomes clearer.

The battle before them is clear.

There are more monsters than guards willing to fight. And yet, the guards are the stronger. With every passing moment, more and more dust is being scattered on the ground. Less and less blood is being spilled.

They grit their teeth and swallow their anxieties, rolling up their sleeves as they stomp towards the battle. It's messy, sweaty, and smells like rain, but when the monsters try to push them away they ignore it, and instead run until they're facing a group of 3 guards.

The rain makes it hard to conjure up a powerful flame, so they lift their hands to pick up a fallen piece of rubble, and the guards don't know what hit them when it crashes into their sides. The giant piece practically crushes them, and blood is pooling from underneath it. A few monsters look on—some horrified, some intrigued—but they only grin and nearly laugh out loud.

The next group of guards aim towards them, fair enough. They motion the other monsters back, and once they're stepping in a plot of floor where rain is void, they rotate their arms around one another to generate a spark, and the orange blaze trails along their arms like its nothing. They feel nothing but heat, no pain, and it's one of the most incredible things they've ever done when they flourish their arms and buffet an arc of fire towards them. The arc inflicts the guards' armor, and the ones without helmets have their faces scorched. They collapse to the ground screaming, some crawling towards the rainwater.

This time, they laugh out loud. Who knew magic could be so fulfilling?

Curing their fingers and gazing at their scratched-up palms, they shake their hands at their sides and turn towards the raging battle. This time, it looks like the monsters are winning.

Satisfied, they spin on their heel and charge towards the direction their father took their beloved siblings.

* * *

They can hear the roaring storm above them when they slowly step down into the dungeon. The stairs are cracked and uneven, and the light underground is very little. They take a deep breath, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe, and clench their hands into fists at their sides. They feel incredibly warm all of a sudden, and they lift their hand to make a tiny flame as a makeshift light.

There's a loud crack of thunder, and it startles them so badly they tumble the rest of the way down. It's not much, but it leaves their leg sore once they reach the bottom.

It's horribly silent. They begin to fear the worst. Peeking around the corner, they only see darkness. Around the other corner, there's a faint light flickering far off. Biting their lip, they hurry forth, trying to keep their footsteps light but quick as they dash across the dungeon floor.

They've never been down here before—it was no proper place for someone of royal status to be. They discover they would never _want_ to be down here in the first place; it's dark and dreary, claustrophobic and tiny.

They shiver. The clashing of swords and stomping of feet above them is deafening.

There's a hushed whisper of their name—the name the monsters have come to know them as. Alert, they snap their head up, and meet the dual-colored eyes of Frisk. They run up to the child, and grip the bars that bind them into the cell.

"He has Asriel," Frisk whispers frantically. The child nudges their head in the direction of the turn down the hall. "I'm scared he's going to _hurt_ him."

They glance all around the cell, and yank on the bars. They don't budge, and they grit their teeth before gripping onto them and using all their magic to rip them apart. It moves, slowly, and just when it's just barely enough for Frisk to get out, there's a horrified scream coming from down the hall—Asriel's scream.

"Go!" Frisk shouts, nodding their head as they begin to slip through the bars.

They follow the child's advice, loping down the hall and nearly slipping as they follow the direction of the scream. Their heart is pounding so loudly they can only hear that and nothing else—their fingers twitch with the desire to _destroy_ something.

There's a room at the end of the hall, and the sight that meets them makes their heart drop to their stomach.

Their father stands inside an open cell, Asriel chained to the wall and unmoving. The king sports a wicked grin, like he's been waiting—and he probably _has_. Their skin crawls with something sinister as something inside them stirs up. An indescribable rage flourishes within them. They want to _kill_ him.

"My _darling_ girl," their father begins, his voice soft yet loud in the dreary dungeon, "what a mess you've made."

They narrow their eyes at them. Their gaze flickers towards Asriel once, and they meet his eyes. He's terrified. They don't blame him.

Their father catches the exchange. "Oh, you want your little _monster_ friend back?" he asks in a mocking tone. " _Pathetic_ ," he spits. "Monsters and humans were _never_ meant to coincide. Humans have _always_ been the dominant race, the more _powerful_. We managed to show monsters that so long ago. But _you_." His eyes narrow, and they look almost black—filled with utter wrath and hatred. "You were the one who _ruined_ it. You ran away. You made _friends_ with these forlorn creatures. You somehow managed to _destroy_ the Barrier. And now you've brought their army tapping at my door."

They don't say a word. They don't want to give him the satisfaction.

Their father only chuckles darkly. "I suppose it's all in the name of _revenge_ , am I wrong?"

Revenge. They're not sure what he's talking about. Something inside them does.

"One of my own, a reincarnation," the king murmurs almost to himself, and then his smile gets larger. "What a treat!"

He's insane, they decide, and tell him. He only grins wider at them—they didn't think it was possible.

"I had _hopes_ for you, my dear Chara. I was expecting you to grow up a proper young lady, and rule alongside the Lord of the other land as queen." The king shakes his head. "You two would have been _legends_. The fabled duo who lead the humans to victory against the monsters, once and for all."

Finally, they growl, and tell him they would have never gone along with it.

"Well, not _now_ , of course," he scoffs. "You've had a taste of magic. You _know_."

They hesitate, but ask why he kept magic a secret.

He looks at them like they're stupid. "Magic couldn't get into the hands of _ordinary_ humans again. That led to disaster"— _the disaster being_ , they note, _that humans coincided with monsters_ —"and precautionary measures _had_ to be taken." He dares to _wink_. "Even keeping them hidden from my own daughter."

They gag. What a disgusting term.

"So," their father inquires curiously, "since that bastard child of a slave can't help you, what are you going to do now?"

"A slave?" comes a small voice. Turning, they see Frisk standing wearily at the doorway. The child looks distressed. "Bastard child?" Frisk continues, sounding weak.

Their father smirks, crossing his arms. "Don't you know? You were _cast out_ ," he hisses, the words like venom on his lips. "The _forbidden_ child between a queen and a slave. A dark one, at that."

Frisk gently puts their fingers against their cheek, feeling their dark skin. Then the child glances over at them, eyes wide in horror when they meet their red ones. "You mean...?"

"Half-siblings unite. How admirable," the king sighs, and then waves them off. "Do not fret, my dearest girl. Your mother and the slave both got _quite_ the punishment for _that_ ordeal."

"You _killed_ the slave," Frisk whispers. "My... dad."

The king looks exasperated.

"You're a _monster_ ," Frisk hisses, eyes wet.

Livid, their red eyes flash as they whirl towards their father. They charge forward, but their father thrusts his arm out to keep them in place. They grit their teeth once the wave of immobility hits them, and it hurts them when they try to move and struggle against the invisible restraints.

"Now that we have all the formalities out of the way, why not get to the fun part?"

The king turns to take a sharpened knife from his cloak. Frisk's eyes widen.

"You can't—"

"I _can_ ," their father counters, his arm unmoving when he moves to grip the knife in his hand facing Asriel.

Once his back is turned, Frisk pounces. The child lands on his back, their legs wrapping around his torso and arms around his neck. They tighten their grip, choking him and making him sputter and wheeze. His arms fall to reach behind him and grab onto Frisk's shirt. Once he gets a handful, he tosses them onto the ground, and there's an echoing cracking sound once their back meets the cold, hard surface.

His released restraint on them allows for free movement, and they don't hesitate to skid past Frisk and swoop up the knife in their hands. They let out a slow breath through their nose, steam releasing from their mouth when they part it, and fire erupts along their fingertips. It blazes along their skin, reflecting in their eyes, and their father is frozen against the wall of the cell from their will.

He's staring into their eyes with an unreadable expression. "I can see her in your eyes," he whispers. "You really _are_ her."

Only shaking their head, they brandish their hands out in front of them. The blaze flourishes, and slinks through the bars when it engulfs their father.

"Stop!" Frisk suddenly yells.

The exclamation startles them, and they lose control of the fire. It dissipates, and their father is standing there angrily. His face is burnt and his shoulders are shaking from rage, and he charges forward with a livid scream. He tackles them to the ground, right beside where Frisk is laying, and his hands go around their neck.

He's much stronger than them, and he sits on their hips as he puts more and more pressure onto their neck. They sputter and wheeze and choke, using their nails to scratch and claw at his hands, but to avail. Spots dance across their vision, and it's outlined in black as they feel life slipping away through their fingers.

"You were a _failure_ of a child," they hear their father growl, but it sounds far-off. Out of the corner of their eye, they see Frisk get up and head elsewhere, but they can't see a thing.

Suddenly, the grip on their throat is released, and they turn to the side, hacking and wheezing and inhaling as much air as they can. Then they inhale too much, and break into a coughing fit. In their span of taking sharp, quick breaths, they see Frisk and Asriel both tackling their father to the ground and using as much power as they could to keep him down.

However, their father only lifts them up with magic like they're nothing.

Coughing, they stand, and rub their hand against their neck.

"You _can't_ win, Chara," the king says.

They see the knife lying on the ground beside their feet. Once they look down towards it, they realize their father had also noticed the movement. When the knife begins to shake and move towards the king, they kneel down in one split second and grab it with one hand. Spinning with the rhythm of the knife, they dig the blade into their father's stomach.

He chokes, blood spitting from his lips, and releases his hold on Frisk and Asriel. They twist the blade inside him.

The king clatters against the wall of the cell, gripping onto the bars and gasping for breath. Blood is spilling all over their hands and clothes, but they don't care, and only push forward. The action is somehow satisfying, an they exhale slowly in relief when the king begins to falter.

Suddenly, he grips onto their hair with his bloody hands. His eyes are blazing.

"You were our—future," he manages, coughing up blood and spitting it all over their face. "You were my... daughter. My heir."

In a low voice, they gravelly whisper that they were never his daughter. He finally slumps on the ground lifelessly.

Turning, they see Frisk and Asriel's horrified faces. When they move towards them, the two only bound backwards. The two are _afraid_ of them.

They blink owlishly, feeling the strange urge to cry. Furiously lowering their head, they toss the knife to the side, where it slides and clatters and stains the ground with the king's blood.

Bending down, they lift the king's arm and toss it around their shoulder. His dead body drags along the floor as they make their way out of the dungeon. They don't care if Frisk or Asriel are following them or not.

* * *

Outside, the rain is heavier than before. Thunder and lightning scatters the land. The castle is empty, and the battle has moved outside into the village. The humans are screaming and running, hiding, some retreating into the castle just in an attempt to survive.

Some see them as they walk by, king in arms. Nobody says a word.

The participants of the battle notice them as they walk forward, and all of a sudden, the fighting stops. Every eye is trained on them, human and monster alike. It's strangely silent, save for the roar of rain soaking their clothes and hair. It sticks to their forehead and cheeks, and the blood on their shirt is slowly staining permanently when they walk up the steps of the center of the village.

Villagers stalk forward curiously. They toss the king's body down against the floor, and raise their foot on top of it. Out of the corner of their eye, they see Frisk and Asriel crawl out of the castle doors and step out onto the land.

They reach down, and pluck the chipped crown from their father's head.

"My name is Chara," they call out, voice hoarse. "And I am _not_ the princess."

There's a dead silence that washes over the crowd. As the rain begins to die into a gentle drizzle, they lift the crown above their head and place it firmly atop their hair.

"I am the _future_ of humans and monsters."

There's more silence, and then a scream. From above, a figure is standing atop a pier in the castle. There's not enough time until arrows are raining down upon the crowd. One nearly strikes them in the shoulder. There's not enough time to move when they see one go straight through Asriel and Frisk.

* * *

 **idk if anyone noticed that chara didnt have any written dialogue in the story at all until now :/**

 **comments are always appreciated!**


	10. Chapter 10

In the days following the death of the king and the rise of his heir, the kingdom falls into a state of peace.

Monsters and humans are reunited, and while it takes time for any of the humans to warm up to the unknown species, some eventually move to associate with them.

The castle is restored, they are crowned official ruler of the kingdom of humans, and the rest of their family live inside the castle.

The only problem is the effect of the arrow attack.

* * *

"How is he?" they gasp as they storm inside the infirmary, hands tucked firmly at their sides. Their hair was wild and astray, their crown just barely keeping their bangs out of their face.

"Um," murmurs one of the healers. "Your Majesty, he's not... _responding_ to the treatment as well as he should be."

They narrow their eyes. "What the hell does _that_ mean?"

The healer, instead of responding, lifts her hands over Asriel's body. He twitches when her hands come to gently rest upon his wound, and a blue light comes brightly from her fingertips. The healing water, infused with magic, is poured into him.

When the healer pulls her hands away, there is no change.

They swallow. The healer glances up at them nervously, her hands shaking.

"Uh—I-I am sorry, your Majesty. I-it seems as if the arrows Prince Asriel was stuck with... well, were specifically _designed_ to kill monsters. Repel magic."

Their entire body is shaking. They click their tongue impatiently. "How is Frisk?"

The healer brightens. "Oh! U-um, Frisk is doing well. Their recovery is much smoother than, well..." Her voice trails off, and she looks down sheepishly at the body on the bed.

From his place, Asriel shifts and groans.

"There must be a way to save him," they breathe, and then, a little louder, "You mustn't let him perish."

"I will try my best, your Majesty." The healer stands, and bows.

They only huff angrily as they storm away, a small blaze escaping from their clenched fists.

* * *

Three days pass, and there is no change. Frisk manages to recover steadily, but Asriel is continuously bedridden, and shows no sign of recovery. The magic doesn't work. He is slowly turning to dust.

Toriel and Asgore weep by his bedside every night, helpless.

"I must find a method to save him," they whisper to their royal advisor.

Frisk purses their lips. "Perhaps those books you used to read all the time back in the forest. Perhaps they will have an answer."

Blinking, they snap their fingers and nod, and set off to work.

* * *

 _The soul is the culmination of life and being in every living thing. In humans and monsters alike._

 _A human's soul is not the entirety of their being, but rather their essence housed in a physical body. This is why humans are stronger than monsters when it comes to physical attacks._

 _If a human dies, their soul will persist after death._

 _A monster can absorb this human's soul. A terrifying beast with unfathomable power..._

 _I wonder what awaits._

* * *

Frisk stands at the balcony, tiny hands gripping the railing as they stare out at the setting sun. The sky is bathed in a brilliant canvas of red and orange, the rising of the moon on the other side of the horizon coming.

They walk out beside the child, crown sparkling in the sunset. "Could you have ever fathomed you'd be standing here one day?" they whisper, voice impossibly soft.

Frisk laughs. "Of course not. I was just the lowly child of a slave, cast out. I dwelled behind the Barrier, the only human alongside a species of monsters." The child looks up at them. "That is, until you came." Frisk grins, and says, "Who knew you would turn out to be my half-sibling."

"Fate has a strange way of tying things together," they sigh. "Who knew that I would turn out to be the reincarnation of the legendary queen of old."

"Yeah," Frisk says. "Except, you're not a girl."

A small smile comes to their face. "No. I'm not."

It's silent between the two of them, chirping of birds and gentle rush of wind filling the void of quiet. It's calm, it's serene.

Then Frisk breaks it, "Chara. What are you planning?"

They take a deep breath, gripping their sides a little tighter. The weight of the crown upon them feels heavier than normal. "I plan to save Asriel's life."

Frisk frowns, and doesn't say a word.

They turn to the child, and the child turns to them. They reach up, hands trembling when they unclasp the jeweled collar from their neck. It gleams in the light, the twinkling stars in the sky reflecting off it. Frisk's eyes widen when they gently wrap their arms behind them, clasping the collar around their neck. They step back, and observe it.

It suits Frisk.

Frisk eyes the collar incredulously. "I... I can't," they whisper. "Your mother is _missing_ —this is the last relic you possess of her, I'm—"

They cut them off by pressing a finger to their lips. " _Our_ mother, you mean," they correct with a small chuckle. "And you _deserve_ it. After all, you are my next heir."

Frisk's eyes go wide. "Chara..."

They don't say another word as they turn on their heel and leave.

* * *

Asriel is dying. His body is turning to dust.

They stare down at him, eyes wet but not leaking. Asgore and Toriel have already said their goodbyes, and now it is their turn.

"Did you bring them?" they murmur to the healer.

The healer flinches, but nods, and reaches over her side to grab a small satchel. When she hands it to them, they flip it open.

Inside are golden flowers. Poisonous. Sure to kill them.

"How quickly?" they ask, vague.

"Quite," the healer replies. "If you swallow them all."

They nod. The air is strangely solemn, but they suppose it's fitting for what they're about to do. They're about to grasp onto their jeweled collar, but then they remember they gave it to their advisor (and next ruler), and take a deep breath. They aren't worried. They aren't afraid.

The golden flowers look menacing when they take a handful. Immediately their hands begin to itch and burn from the poison. They ignore it, and look down at Asriel. His arm is fading now, turning into dust and soon to become nothing.

Then it clicks. They're 15 today.

"Oh," they whisper, to themself, and laugh.

The healer bows on the floor. "Good luck, your Majesty. May your journey to the next life be smooth and free of obstacles."

"What's the fun in that?" they murmur, and takes a deep breath. They hold the flowers above their mouth, eyes squeezing closed.

And they down them all in one go.

* * *

In death, Chara sees the queen of old smiling at them, before a flash of white overtakes their body.

Through Asriel's eyes, they see Toriel and Asgore engulfing him into a hug.

* * *

 **possibly not the ending you all wanted, but the end!**

 **this wasn't the best or most popular of stories, but it was fun to write, so,, yeah**

 **thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! its been a blast**

 **see you next time**


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